


Fangs and Fire

by Kitbull



Series: Patchwork Guardian [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chimeras, Dogs, Feral Behavior, Gen, Human Experimentation, No Slash, No Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parental Roy Mustang, Platonic Relationships, Shenanigans, The dog is actually a human chimera, What if Roy Mustang had a dog
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:22:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 70,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25161574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitbull/pseuds/Kitbull
Summary: A human chimera created illegally by a deranged alchemist is more canine than human. She escapes confinement, and later finds herself becoming integrated with a pack of feral dogs as their leader. With her identity becoming increasingly difficult to maintain as she works to satisfy basic needs like thirst and hunger, she lives in the rubbish dump of East City, scavenging trash and killing small animals to survive, working with her canine 'family.'Increasingly desperate, things begin change when she finds herself snatching a famous pair of gloves from the Flame Alchemist himself.(She just knew he had an array, she had no idea who it was)orMillie never went to Resembool to meet the Elric brothers. She went to East City and met Roy Mustang instead.
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Original Female Character(s), Edward Elric & Original Female Character, Roy Mustang & Original Female Character(s)
Series: Patchwork Guardian [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1822774
Comments: 38
Kudos: 132





	1. The Junkyard Dogs of East City

**Author's Note:**

> This might become a series, it might not be, but after writing Patchwork Guardian, the original story that led to me coming up with this one, I decided I wanted to write it, at least a chapter. What would happen if our chimera heroine wound up running into Roy Mustang instead, and how would she survive if she was not immediately adopted as a pet?
> 
> As it turns out, I had to read a lot about feral dogs for this. Millie is the same character at her root, but she will still be rather different, because her experiences are far more extreme this time.

Plenty of people pitied stray dogs; they had the capacity to be loving companions and the joy of a household, and unlike something born wild, they never learned how to survive without the aid of human beings. Hounds that were feral and had little human contact, by comparison, had a far higher chance of survival compared to pets that had been lost or abandoned, but they did not necessarily survive _alone_. Dogs were inherently social creatures, like their wolf ancestors, and the existence of a feral canine often revolved around being part of a pack, working together to scavenge for food. The highest ranking individual in these packs, contrary to popular belief, was not the strongest canine, but the one with the greatest amount of intelligence. Dominance was not based on strength, but on social bonds, similar to how a family is arranged. Although they may not always know what to do with prey and thus, do not normally engage in hunting behavior, a pack of wild dogs is perfectly capable of surviving, provided they have a steady food supply; largely waste or carrion.

Mill—once Millicent, shortened to Millie, and then devolving down to a single syllable when she felt like her old names no longer fit—had endured more than she wanted to reflect on. She spent several months locked in a cage— _not your fault, you did nothing wrong_ —and escaped, before wandering in a northeastern direction for what felt like just as long, despite the fresh air and sunlight. Her internal clock had been chaotic from lack of routine, leading her to sleep with no proper pattern, when her nightmares did not scare her awake again. She had only learned of the date when she finally found herself in the middle of a large city and managed to peer into the window of a box containing newspapers.

Six months missing, from when she had disappeared and the whole nightmare began. She did not know how long she had been in the cage or on the run, but long enough for her fur to become a murky shade of brown from filth and muck. Catching a glimpse of her reflection at night from tinted shop windows revealed the visage of an enormous hound with curly, matted fur, looking almost like a wolf. Mill had not even recognized herself, at first, seeing a creature so large that its head could be level with that of a man, with hollow ribs and dark eyes. A canine snout with a coal-dark nose and lips had replaced a human face, and only around her muzzle where she had vainly tried to bathe, did she see a flash of brilliant silver, now long-faded behind grime once more.

Mill was once a human girl, and then an alchemist dragged her out of her life and turned her into a dog, a _chimera._ Where most victims of kidnapping and the kind of abuse being _transmuted_ could have counted as would seek out help, she fled. When she should have had someone there to give her food and shelter, she was forced to drink from puddles and potentially unsafe sources, and eat what people threw away, or something that had died from an unknown cause. As time passed, she became willing to kill small animals like birds and squirrels if an opportunity arose, and was would readily consume weeds that she knew were edible and unlikely to hurt her, such as clover or dandelion. Dogs were _omnivores_ , thankfully she could do such a thing.

Two months later, after having arrived in this city— _East City_ humans had said in the distance. Amazing, how far she had ran—and eight months after she was put into the wrong body, she still clung to life with desperation, hunger and thirst ever-present threats. She could not ask for help from humans directly, as afraid of her as they seemed, so she had turned to the other species that she could trust: the dogs who shared at least half of her makeup.

East City produced a lot of trash, being the capital of East Area in Amestris, and it was collected and tossed into a proper dump, rather than burned or buried. There was no clear pattern for what could appear there amongst the piles of waste, which was left to bake in the sun and produce a horrible stench. Items ranging from half-rotten food to furniture that was seemingly new appeared in time with the emptying of various dumpsters around the city. She lived in a proper den, more like an animal than the human being she _was_ , constructed from broken furniture and a hole that had been dug using her long, bear-like claws. The junkyard dogs of East City—because calling them anything else was too derogatory for her human sensibilities—lived there in a pack of five individuals excluding herself, their dens scattered somewhere around hers.

The dogs all looked very different. The weakest member of the pack, who had begun hiding in a den extremely close to Mill’s, was a scraggly white terrier mix with brown dapples all over, almost completely hidden by filth unless it rained. She had pale eyes, but it was difficult to tell if they were yellow or blue. If she were clean, Mill could only imagine that someone would fall in love and adopt the sole small dog in her pack without hesitation, because she was adorable, down to her very personality. She was quiet and friendly, and often followed the sixth member of the pack, Mill herself, like a shadow; she often fled from the other dogs when the chimera was not around to protect her. Mill called her Mouse, although she had not spoken human words in long time.

The former leader of the dog pack, who had peacefully lost her position to Mill when they all began to learn of her superior ability to find food and avoid danger, was a large female with short cream fur and a dark snout and eyes to match, with pointed ears and a curly tail. A large patch of skin on her back formed a scar like a lightning bolt. She was extremely smart, and would behave somewhat aggressively when humans came too close to herself or the other dogs, at the same time looking terrified. She had probably been abused in the past, to have such a painful-looking injury, perhaps by people who thought it was acceptable to hurt strays. Mill called her Lux.

The largest dominant male was slightly bigger than Lux, a reddish-copper hound with completely short fur and floppy ears, and loose skin around his snout. He had paler brown eyes and his nose was liver-colored. His nose was always pressed to the ground, and he often wandered off on his own, but eagerly approached when he was alerted to the presence of food. He was friendly towards the other dogs, and was more liable to go near humans, a source of anxiety. He was similar to Mill, in that he tried to prevent the other dogs from playing too rough or otherwise hurting Mouse. She called him Boon.

A dog that looked like a version of Lux but had floppy ears and a loose snout like Boon was identifiable through scent as their puppy. No doubt the sole survivor of a larger litter, and aggressively competitive for food. He was liable to hurt Mouse if precautions were not taken, and would try to bite dogs other than his parents. Mill did not like him very much, but tolerated his presence given that the pack was built around some sort of family unit. She believed that he could pose a threat to the whole pack, by potentially hurting humans and leading to someone deciding to cull the feral dog population in the dump, but could do little without risking her own position. She named him Leo, for his color and violence.

The final dog, a medium-sized female who had wandered up a month after Mill had arrived herself, looked like some sort of fancy shepherd or sheepdog. She had pointed ears with long fringes and a fluffy tail and similarly long fur. What Mill could make out past grime was a coat that was a wide mix of white, grey, black, and brown; a gorgeous dog by anyone’s standards, and pale yellow eyes that gleamed with intelligence. She might have been a stray that was abandoned, but she learned quickly and thus survived that way. Mill believed that she had been abused by her owner. Her hind right leg lifted up in a hop, as if from nerve damage at times, though she had no trouble running. She would notably act terrified if a human got near her, and take the soonest opportunity to flee and hide. She played very rough, making her a threat to Mouse without meaning to be. Mill identified this dog as Squirrel.

Each day that she woke up, Mill would typically go about looking for food that was not yet rotting sufficiently to be harmful to a dog’s constitution, though she was positive that if she were still a normal human, it would have made her very sick. On weekends, where there was too much activity throughout the city to safely roam, this often involved physically churning through garbage and hoping the waste did not contain substances that would render food inedible, such as industrial chemicals. Her enhanced chimera sense of smell, which was many times stronger than a dog’s because she was part _ursine_ , made this easier. Garbage trucks dumped food with regularity, but wherever they came from, it was safe to assume that dumpsters and bins from suburbs were emptied only once a week. By virtue of how people tossed food and the number of times bins were flipped, and horrifically similar to a very bad buffet, the newest things were often at the very bottom of a pile. Most of Mill’s attempts to actually kill birds or rodents occurred on these days.

Weekdays were blissfully easier to deal with; fewer people were wandering about for any reason other than work or a lunch break, and they were less inclined to be active late at night. Because Mill was intelligent enough to do so and of the correct size, she could successfully open trash cans or dumpsters and access their contents. She would additionally track the behaviors of people in ideal places for collecting food, to access their trash when it was fresh and probably had scraps that were recently added. Sometimes she found nothing, and other times she would locate treasures such as slightly wilted fruits or vegetables that had been tossed due to age, not even rotten.

Complicating these missions, however, were her tagalong pack of dogs, some of them being inclined to either make too much noise to be stealthy, or wander off. Mill did not entirely know when she became the dog that everyone else had began following, but it had spontaneously occurred at some point. Her partners in crime often turned out to be Squirrel and Mouse. Squirrel, being bright and observant, meant that she was able to learn things by copying Mill. Mouse was well-behaved and quiet enough to not arouse suspicion. The other dogs would linger behind, largely acting as lookouts in suburban neighborhoods and alleyways. Wherever Mill’s nose led her, however, she would immediately turn back for the East City dump when she suspected that the sun was rising.

Regarding direct interactions with humans, they were mixed. Some humans were kind, and left out bowls of dog food or shredded meat alongside water that was clean. Out of gratitude, Mill never went through their trash, effectively rewarding them for their behavior by preventing a mess from happening. Although she would have at one point been aghast at trying to eat food made for dogs, whether it was wet or dry, anything that was not rotted or old was like a gourmet meal to her now, especially considering she never got enough. Though she was not quite emaciated, she was still too thin, between trying to feed herself and look out for the others.

Many humans considered the street dogs nothing more than pests, in spite of the fact that they were visibly hungry and probably would not have dug through their trash if given an easier alternative. If they happened to catch Mill or another dog going through their cans, they would sometimes yell (which she ignored) or throw things at them. The most tense interactions with hostile people involved those who would approach with some sort of weapon. Brooms were often the first thing they grabbed, at which point Mill or another dog would give a warning bark, and everyone would scatter and reconvene somewhere else.

Not before Mill deliberately tipped over their trash and scattered its contents on the street with her claws, acting if it were an accident occurring while attempting to flee, and _not_ something she did on purpose out of malice. She would mockingly laugh on the inside at how she was a more rebellious fifteen-year-old when she was put into the body of a dog, than she had been as a human being.

Perhaps she was making things worse, but with her perception of her own humanity growing increasingly distorted—and she _knew_ it was—she did not take kindly to the rage of normal humans at the inconvenience of having their trash raided. They had the luxury of fresh food and water on a daily basis, and were not worried about how secure their shelters were, or if the incoming winter would kill them or their friends. More often than not, Mill thought of herself as one of the dogs, because _they_ looked out for her. She looked out for _them_ and kept threats away, because even if people tried not to act like it, even when they were mad, Mill could see fear flash in their eyes. She was a big dog, perhaps the largest they had ever seen, and even half-starved, she could easily kill a man if she really wanted to.

Recently she had found a new area that seemed like a good place to scavenge. She hoped the humans here were nice, or at least not hostile. It seemed like a fancier group of apartments, white-painted brick and decorative shutters on the windows. It was as close to East Command as she dared to go, which was still several blocks away. She had come across the building only once, and immediately known what it was, given the banners of the country’s flag, the massive stone walls, and a staircase that would have been murder on a person with bad knees.

She had immediately turned and fled. Although the more time that went by, the more she realized that she had been paranoid, the military was _not_ after her nor did they even know she existed, she still considered them a serious threat.

The sun had set and she did not yet know when the garbage would run, but spying from the dark corners of adjacent buildings suggested everyone was taking their trash to a set of two dumpsters in a small plaza-like area near the street, so she could guess it would be the next morning. It was actually easier for her to get into a dumpster than a trash bin without arousing suspicion. They had lids on the top, but also sliding ones in their side, which she could move easily. There was far less noise involved in raiding them.

Even so, when many people shared a dumpster, they felt less personal responsibility to stop a pack of six feral dogs trying to retrieve food from it, even if they happened to notice.

When it seemed like enough time had passed that everyone was asleep and would not come out to run them off, the windows dark, Mill emerged from the shadows, and darted over to the dumpster, while the other dogs followed her, some of them scanning for potential threats, while Boon proceeded to put his nose to the ground and wander off in the wrong direction. She hoped he did not try to go right up to people’s front doors. Wealthier people who had more disposable income were liable to get fancier takeout, which could be semi-protected in a container when tossed, and possibly more nutritious. Plenty of restaurants out there gave more food than what could be consumed in a single sitting, and Mill was banking on people choosing to toss it, rather than get another meal from leftovers.

She jumped up and placed one paw on the dumpster, and hooked the other into a slot that acted as a hand-hold. She pulled, and the metal side door slid open, revealing a dimly-lit interior filled almost completely with black plastic bags. It reeked, but she could tell there was good food in here. For a human, it would be hard to see, but Mill’s eyes were adapted for nocturnal use, so she had no trouble determining what was safe once she dug her claws into one of the bags that seemed promising, and pulled. Out tumbled a few brown, rotten cores of fruit, but also, a container that was _closed_ , and smelled like some sort of Xingese takeout. An excellent find.

Squirrel jostled against one leg and whined at her, already preparing to beg for food, and Mouse brushed against her foot on the other, probably not wanting anyone who was hungry to snap at her while being competitive. Lux gave a low bark, and Mill could hear the clicking of claws as Boon immediately ran back over at the promise of food. Leo gave a snarl, and was cut off by a harsh bark from his father. Leo’s snarling became a submissive whine, and Mill suspected his father had grabbed him by the snout in a dominance display. He would not be physically hurt, as violent as it could appear. Leo himself generally acted more as if he were arguing with his parents, versus trying to harm them. The closer he drew, the more that Mouse was practically on top of Mill.

She managed to wrap her jaws around the container of takeout, feeling the weight of it, and lifted, barely managing to avoid dropping it when she nearly tripped over the other dogs. She let out a rumble of warning that everyone needed to back off, and they almost failed to comply. They all stared at her, eagerly awaiting food, wagging their tails and begging with their eyes. It would be a nice meal to start with, but not enough for all six of them. She would keep digging through the trash and take something for herself if she could find it. She dropped the container on the ground and undid the clasps on the polystyrene using her claws, allowing it to pop open, revealing some sort of lo mein dish. It was cold and greasy by now, but by looking at it, she could tell that it must have been tossed out very recently.

All at once the dogs tried to go for it, with Leo immediately trying to snap at Squirrel. Lux tried to do the same to Mouse. Mill gave a rough bark to make the assailants back off, and hurriedly, the two more passive females grabbed as much of the lo mein noodles in their mouths as they could and darted off to different corners of the little plaza to eat their prizes. It was less likely that the other three would fight, given their family dynamic.

With the others distracted, Mill went to the dumpster again and looked to see if she could find anything else before she had to start physically churning through the trash in the one bag she had ripped, or open another. There were about two carrots that had gone soft from age, but they smelled like an old container of cleaner, and therefore they were probably not safe to eat. Some old wrinkled potatoes, sadly not safe for dogs. There was half a cucumber that was similarly soft, but did not seem as suspicious. She went ahead and grabbed it, grimacing at the texture. The others had already finished the lo mein when she turned back around, already back to begging.

Greedy, she thought, heaving a sigh through her nose. Mill would gladly welcome extra calories, but she was a sucker for the others, it seemed. She unceremoniously dropped the vegetable in front of them, and turned back to dig again, deciding there was no satisfying way to divide that particular morsel.

She went ahead and tore open another bag that smelled strongly of spices, withdrawing her right leg quickly, because the feeling of metal on her ribs was unpleasant, as little padding as she possessed. She was truly lucky with this new place, because she quickly found a container—it smelled like Cretan, this time—and she detected meat, _beef._ She _would_ fight for her share over something like this. She wasted no time in pulling it out of the dumpster and opening this one, too, and when Leo, being selfish as usual, lunged to take some, she growled and swiftly grabbed his snout with her own jaws, not biting hard, but tugging lightly and applying just enough pressure to warn him, before letting him go. She went to eat before someone else tried their luck and took food before she could have her own share.

The texture was unsatisfying and it was _cold_ , so it was hardly pleasant compared to what it would have been in the beginning, but the spicy ingredients and seasonings that had been used in its preparation helped to cover up the taste of mild rot. Mill only tasted it as an afterthought, though, being more concerned with gaining as much sustenance as possible before someone else tried to take it. Even if scavenging was a group effort and the other dogs would take initiative to help find food, they still fought and squabbled over individual portions.

Lux gave a loud bark and a series of low growls, and Mill felt her heart sink. She knew what the meaning of that particular tone meant. Humans.

Naturally the other dogs fled, following Lux away to safety while Mill would be the last, all except for Mouse, who clung close to her leg, trembling like a pitiful thing. She was the protector, in this case, and she turned her attention to look at the person who dared to interrupt their meal, snout wrinkling. The man had emerged from one of the apartments on the ground floor, holding a small bundle of white fabric in his left hand. He wore a loose white shirt and trousers that looked like they had been hastily thrown on. As he approached, she could make out his features.

He had sleek black hair that was a bit messy, and equally dark eyes. He looked like he might have possessed Xingese heritage, because while there was a certain amount of diversity in Amestris, most people had light hair and similarly light eyes. He was not excessively large or threatening in appearance, but humans had plenty of other ways they could pose a threat, like calling someone who _was._ There was also whatever he was holding in his hand. It looked like cloth, but people would sometimes wrap knives in handkerchiefs, she knew. She would not immediately assume that he was unarmed.

The stranger kept approaching, all the while Mill kept tensing, until finally, she let out a low, rumbling growl, warning him to stay away. She hunched over her food protectively, even though logically, she knew humans would have no interest in consuming trash (She had thought that about herself, once, but desperation drove her over the edge). He stopped immediately at the sound, and she caught a flash of uneasiness in his gaze, fingers tightening around the bundle in his hand. He did an admirable job at hiding it on his features, but she had a natural ability for picking up on signs of anxiety. She knew trying to scare him was a risk, but she was willing to do it for a bit of extra protein. It was a mixed bag, what the end result of intimidation would be. Sometimes people became more passive and left the dogs alone, and other times, it made them take precautions.

Mill did not think she could sense any harmful intent from the man, but even if he wished to only run them off, he would still hurt them by depriving them of much-needed food.

Moments later, Lux realized that some of their pack was not following, and they reappeared from around the street corner where they had vanished. The tawny female bared her teeth at the man, her hackles raised, and she began barking frantically. Leo copied her. Boon was pacing anxiously, licking his lips and whining in response to the distress of the other two. The three of them together did not come any closer than they already were.

Squirrel ran up to Mill and began crying at her, before flinching when the man turned to look at her, tail curling between her legs. She started trembling and immediately moved to hide behind Mill out of his direct line of sight. Mouse pressed herself closer to the chimera’s leg, seemingly wanting to disappear. Canine language involved no words, but it contained unique sounds and barks for plenty of situations. The pack would be far happier if Mill chose to leave, then and there, especially the individuals who had been abused, but she was _hungry_. She was increasingly unwilling to yield to people who were not living in a constant state of starvation.

For a while, they simply stared at each other while the rest of Mill’s pack reacted. She watched to see what he would do, until she was assured he would not come any closer, before snorting and choosing to wolf down as much as she could. Her ears were pricked and alert, though, in case there were any changes in the man’s behavior now that she was no longer looking directly at him. She could hear the tell-tale sounds that Lux gave off whenever a person looked specifically at her moments later. He was looking at the others, and beneath the racket everyone was making, she could hear him murmuring softly under his breath.

“There’s three there…one, two…six of them…” Counting the number of dogs in her pack, then.

A light being switched on made her look up to see where it was shining through a window, and she realized that Lux and Leo were going to wake everyone in the apartment complex if they did not stop barking. Too much of a disturbance was bad; it was hard enough to scavenge from the trash with the bit of mess they made just by opening bags, without also producing noise. Mill swung her head around to look at them, giving them a brief snarl. _Be quiet!_ She thought urgently. Even if this one human was not doing anything, the others might.

The barking died down immediately to quiet growls that would not be audible at a huge distance.

They knew it was for their own good, even though they were free to disobey if they pleased. Everyone averted their eyes, apologetic, though they continued to watch the stranger. They would probably try to lick Mill’s snout in a plea for forgiveness, later. She was not angry at them, but potentially being ignored or shunned, even if she had no intentions of doing such a thing to them, was enough to make them upset. It was difficult for a dog to survive by itself, so maintaining social bonds was extremely important for them.

Mill glanced up at the apartments again, quietly hoping nobody else emerged, before returning her gaze to the man, who was now watching her intently, wearing a thoughtful expression on face. Her ears lowered and her snout wrinkled; she did not like that expression. Plenty of people tried to figure out who the highest-ranking dog was, and Mill was already singled out enough just because of her large size. Special attention scared her, and she knew how cruel humans could be. It was too late, though, to fool this person, because she had given some sort of order, and had been obeyed.

They needed to leave, and perhaps they would come back to this place later because of the food, but _not_ when this person was watching them.

In a pointed display of intelligence, Mill picked up the container her own food had been in, almost tripping over Squirrel and Mouse in the process and giving them an annoyed rumble. She walked over and precisely stacked it inside the one that had contained the lo mein, and picked them up in her teeth again. She walked the stack of empty cartons over to the dumpster, and dropped them back inside. She then reached out a paw and slid the door shut, all the while, glaring at the human, whose expression had shifted from deep thought to muted fascination.

Then she nearly jumped when he spoke at a low volume, “Normal dogs don’t do that. Are you a lost service animal?” His tone was calm and even, the same sort that people used when trying to deal with potentially dangerous wild animals. Even if Mill’s behavior suggested that she might have been a trained working dog at some point, she knew her appearance indicated she was feral, and had likely been so for a long time. She was filthy, for one, to the point that her natural fur color was hidden by grime. She was too thin to have possessed a proper food supply like what she needed.

Lost service animal? If only he _knew._

Mill had spent too much time living and socializing with dogs to immediately respond in human words, and she personally considered it a bad idea. Instead, she backed away from the dumpster and growled a warning, not baring her teeth, but angling herself sideways and pinning back her ears warily. It was a response, but not anything particularly promising that would give the man some sort of confirmation. She knew she was acting like an animal, but she had been put in such a position for most of the past year. Mill was past the point of caring when her means of survival were so limited. This human was far too confident, and it made her nervous.

The man breathed out a regretful sigh, and loosened his grip on the fabric he had been holding in his hand, revealing it to be a glove. She saw it then.

An array, applied to the back with bright crimson that her eyes could still perceive.

 _Danger_. _Alchemist._

She bared her teeth and gave a snarl, and before she could properly plan her response, she was already moving. The action she took was impulsive, and only a few seconds later did she consciously register her behavior and adjust it accordingly. Mill barely managed to make it in time when the man realized she was charging him and hastily moved to put on his glove. She only narrowly stopped herself from actually tackling him to the ground entirely.

At the last second, she veered to the side, teeth catching the glove and ripping it from the stranger’s hands, her shoulder knocking into his arm and making him stumble back. “H-hey!” The man exclaimed, wide-eyed with shock as he tried to recover. Clearly, he had not expected for her to go after what was most likely in some form or fashion a _weapon_. Streaks of grime were smeared onto his clothing and skin, where she had come into physical contact. She would have grimaced, had she not just acted aggressively.

She did not quite regret it, though.

Transmutations were not the same as guns. All you needed was the ability to perform alchemy and an array, so Mill knew that by taking the glove, she was disarming the man. Before anything else could occur, with the alchemist’s glove held in her mouth, she turned and fled. The dogs eagerly followed, all the while the man shouted after her indignantly, “That’s my _glove!”_ His voice, a deep baritone, had gone shrill, as if he could not believe what had just transpired.

A stray dog stole his glove.

Mill was in trouble, now, and it was for that reason that, rather than leading her pack through more neighborhoods to scavenge, she turned towards the East City dump instead. Her fear of retaliation was stronger and more immediate than her fear of starvation, and she did not know what would be done in response to her act of aggression. Although she had not injured the man, she had behaved in a way that might lead to humans being wary of her presence. Had she doomed herself and the whole pack just now?

She cursed the fact that all she had to show for it was a glove with a fancy red array.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As is tradition, I will post a script, but please let me know in the comments if you want to see what happens next. Patchwork Guardian is the original story for this one, but I figure this story, while the main character may turn out to be a bit darker or less friendly, will actually wind up being unexpectedly funny.
> 
> For reference of how this story will go, picture a bunch of military personnel in their free time trying to outsmart a dog that is extremely good at wiggling her way out of everything.
> 
> SCRIPT
> 
> Havoc: So, basically, you're saying that you bugged a bunch of stray dogs while they were eating, and one snatched your glove?
> 
> Roy: Yes, that's exactly what I just said. I thought it was going to actually attack me before I even put it on.
> 
> Havoc: *Laughs in Roy's face*
> 
> Roy: It's not that funny! That dog recognized that I had an array! It reacted!
> 
> Fuery: Sorry, Colonel, but I have trouble believing that.
> 
> Roy: Well I know what I saw.
> 
> Havoc: Alright, Chief. Hey guys, wanna go look for the Colonel's missing glove?
> 
> Breda: No way! Nuh-uh, I'm not going anywhere near a dog!
> 
> Falman: I believe it would be an excellent team-building exercise and a test of our investigation skills.
> 
> Havoc: Hawkeye?
> 
> Hawkeye: You boys have fun.


	2. For Your Own Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An official operation begins to capture the stray dog that swiped Roy Mustang's glove. Roy himself is merely a spectator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is decidedly less serious than Patchwork Guardian, but at the same time, it's almost relaxing for me to write this one, because of that. 
> 
> If anyone remembers in the original story where Black Hayate was adopted by Hawkeye, Havoc had the means to keep a dog, but they decided against letting him keep one because he made a joke about eating dogs. I figure that Havoc would realistically be a decent pet owner, apart from exposing an animal to cigarette smoke, and probably would not have been prevented from adopting a dog if he did not make the joke.
> 
> Hence, Havoc will become a dog owner in this story. Mill has an entire pack of dogs, after all. I think we'd all like to see them go to good homes, at least some of them, right?

Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang had faced many opponents in his life, and though he considered himself an excellent strategist, he was not invincible. His losses came in many different forms, ranging from his alchemy not functioning in the rain, to the fact that he had never won a single game of chess against General Grumman, the officer in charge of East Command, and his trusted Lieutenant’s grandfather. Less obvious losses were related to more superficial things that did not have so much to deal with strategy as they did personal pride. Although Roy was not actually the type of person who notched bedposts, he still had the reputation as if he did, and he was admittedly a shameless flirt. Given the effort he put into his appearance and his skill with social interaction, it hurt when he ran into the occasional lady who was either immune or even hostile towards him. He took the rejections gracefully and would not persistently harass someone once they made their feelings known—he respected their wishes—but it did bruise his ego, somewhat.

His latest loss, however, was perhaps more humiliating than the times that he had gone out to a conflict and had been caught in a downpour. It was the sort that he was liable to never live down, because he had lost not to weather or even a person, but a dog. Not even a dog that he thought was trained and in proper health, but a dismally thin, feral one.

What had started initially as an effort to harmlessly spook off a pack that was raiding the dumpsters near his apartment with a bit of fire ended with one of them stealing his glove. It was most likely the alpha, given its behavior and the way the others seemed to follow it. Roy found the creature to be frighteningly intelligent, somehow able to open the dumpster in the first place and undoing the tabs of takeout containers. It had silenced its companions, clearly linking the noise they produced to his neighbors waking up and turning on lights in the building.

Roy was convinced that the dog had recognized the array on his glove as a threat. It had acted accordingly, moving to snatch it and disarm him, and although one part of him secretly admired how cunning the animal was, it had been absolutely terrifying at the time. It was so tall that its head was level with his collarbone, and in addition to the long claws on its feet, he had genuinely feared when it went to snap at the glove that those sharp fangs would take his hand with it.

Now, however, he could only focus on how the blow to his pride _stung._

Worse, he had dared to recount the tale to his subordinates, which was how he wound up in his current predicament. Walking through the streets of East City on an off day in civilian clothing, Roy had somehow been dragged by his team into going on a massive search for the glove thief in their spare time. The only people who were not participating in the lunacy were Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda, who had an intense fear of dogs, and his right-hand, First Lieutenant Hawkeye, recently promoted. Considering the fact that Roy always kept spare gloves and his alchemy was too complex for a lost version of his array to be used, she saw no reason for going on a wild goose chase. _Roy_ did not quite understand why he had gone along with it, but it probably had some relation to the pleading gazes his subordinates directed his way.

In short, he had caved because his men had _begged_ him to join them on the activity.

After three hours with no sign of any stray dogs whatsoever, Roy began to question his own choices. They had combed the district where his apartment was, asking random locals about a pack of strays, only to learn that people had no idea that they were in the area. Either the dogs had only recently arrived near where Roy lived, or they were so subtle normally in their sneaking around that most people failed to recognize their presence. They then proceeded to expand their search outward, slowly moving further away from East Command into districts that were increasingly poor. Beautifully-maintained buildings with fresh paint and manicured plantings grew more decrepit. Weeds grew in yards and brick was riddled with cracks. Cobblestone roads that were originally smooth and perfect became filled with potholes and litter.

They found themselves almost by the slums, five hours into the search, before people began to mention dogs that were not pets, and they finally started seeing leads.

An old woman, lines of stress and hardship etched into her features by time, frowned up at Roy from where she sat on the steps of an apartment building, and when she spoke she was missing two of her teeth, likely unable to afford proper dental care. “A big dog, ey?” She asked, speaking with an accent he could not place. “Ya must be talkin’ ‘bout the ‘uns livin’ in the dump. Folk ‘round ‘ere feed ‘em sometimes, but ‘ere poor, so we can’t ‘ford it every day. Poor things, ‘es starvin’.”

“So they live in the dump?” Master Sergeant Kain Fuery asked, looking quite sad at the thought. The short, dark-haired man with large glasses was always the sort of person to rescue stray animals. No doubt, this whole affair was painful for him. A dump, of all places, would probably have plenty of food waste, which was likely why the dogs lived there, but it was also extremely unsanitary. What was even the whole point of being dragged along on this search.? If they found the dog, what were they even going to do? Did his subordinates just want to look at the creature, or did they have intentions of actually catching it?

“Yessir,” The woman responded, fingers wringing the wood of a cane she used to help herself walk, “Used to be only five ‘o ‘em. ‘An then a big ‘un came ‘round few months ‘go. Pretty thing, bright silver, least ‘til muck got on ‘er. Neighbor’s call ‘er Karma.”

Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc, a taller man with blonde hair and blue eyes, a cigarette ever-present hanging from his mouth, grinned with amusement, “Now what prompted them to name the dog that?”

The lady’s eyes crinkled, her missing teeth obvious in a cunning smile, “’Cause that dog gets _even._ Goin’ through trash makes a mess, but run ‘em off wit’ ‘o broom, ‘an Karma…ohh she don’t like that. She go knock o’er the whole can ‘fore she leaves. Nobody’s brave ‘nough to actually hit ‘er. Dog that big ‘ould do some _damage_. Any ‘un livin’ ‘ere, though, knows if ya mess with Karma, then Karma ‘gon mess wit’ _you._ ”

Havoc snickered, “Well, we’re looking for Karma, then. Thanks for the information, ma’am, we’ve been trying to find this dog for hours.”

The woman grunted as she used her cane as a brace to help herself stand back up, “Ya boys be careful, now.” She brushed off the front of her powder blue dress, turned, and slowly made her way up the small number of steps back to the door of the apartment, using the handrail. Roy idly wondered if it hurt going up those stairs. She seemed to be gritting her teeth as though it did.

“I sincerely wonder why we’re doing this,” Roy said, finally, when the lady vanished, “Why are you so obsessed with finding this dog?”

“Well maybe we want to see the dog, too,” Havoc told him, blowing a puff of smoke from his cigarette, “Plus, it swiped your glove, maybe the universe is saying you need to adopt it.”

Roy scowled at him, “I’m an alchemist, I don’t believe in things like the universe having special meanings behind what it sends my way. It was a strange coincidence.” He loved dogs, but this situation was different from how people typically adopted strays. Considering he thought the creature had identified his glove as some sort of weapon, he did not necessarily count Karma’s glove-snatching as an act of hostility in the traditional sense. Even so, the thought of living in a shared space with it was unnerving. Although he had not been physically hurt, he was unable to stop his mind from flashing to an image of gleaming white teeth snapping dangerously near his fingers.

Fuery frowned, “Are you scared of the dog?”

Roy cursed inwardly, before answering, “Of course not!” His voice came out a little more shrill than it should have. He was not terrified of it, but unnerved, perhaps. He would admit to neither.

Havoc stuck his hands in his pockets knowingly, “Well then why won’t you consider, chief? You have a big enough apartment that allows pets, and I know you make enough to take care of a dog that size. You have a problem with getting something that’s already fully-grown? Scared of what the vet’s gonna tell you?” Roy knew what his subordinate was doing. He was trying to goad him into agreeing to keep the dog if they could catch it. That was an enormous _if._

And it was working, horribly enough.

“Havoc, why don’t _you_ take the dog, then?” A deflection, and the best one he could think of in the moment. He never expected to be put on the spot like this.

He shrugged, “Sure, why not? A guy with a dog is a chick magnet, though I’d prefer something smaller. I might pick a different dog, if that’s possible. I think Karma’s yours, chief.”

Roy pinched his temples, and huffed with frustration. There was no point arguing, he was probably going to get stuck taking care of the dog even if he tried to refuse. They were never going to let him live down an animal snatching his glove, and Havoc was insistent. At least he had an enormous information network full of people. Even if it cost a fortune to nurse the creature back to health and get it up-to-date on vaccines and preventative medication, Roy could always rehome it afterwards with someone who actually wanted it as a pet and did not mind having a giant living in their home. He would just have to lock his bedroom door at night. And maybe barricade it, so he could sleep knowing the dog was not going to tear his throat out.

He sighed again, this time resigned, before answering, “Alright, _if_ you can catch it, I’ll cover the vet bills and take care of it.” He cut any responses off with a look, “That _doesn’t_ mean I’m going to be a permanent owner. If I find a different person who wants the dog, then I’ll give it to them.”

Fuery looked at him with enormous, shining eyes, “She might grow on you, though, Lieutenant Colonel. Wouldn’t that be good? Then you wouldn’t have to look for a different home.”

 _No, it would not be good_ , He thought, but he could not argue against the logic, either. He was not holding out hope for it, though. Roy doubted that they would even manage to get close to the dog, much less actually capture it where they could take it to a vet and have it looked at. “Let’s just focus on finding the dog.” He responded, sounding exhausted. This whole thing was wearing him out. They had spent most of the day looking around, and now they were insisting he should actually keep the dog as a pet. “Where are we planning on going, then, directly to the dump?” He did not want to ruin another nice outfit.

Falman spoke, then, “I believe an easier solution would be to entice the dogs with treats. We passed by a market two blocks earlier, so we can buy them from there. We don’t have everything we need, though, to actually catch the dog, even then. We need a vehicle and a crate.

Roy folded his arms, “I paid for lunch for everyone today, and I’ll come along for however long you’re planning to keep up with this nonsense, but if you’re going to _insist_ I take the dog, then I won’t be helping you catch it.”

Havoc shrugged, “Fair enough, you can just watch and enjoy the show.”

Oh, Roy _would._

_A few days later…_

Mill trusted the meat of birds far more than she did the meat of rodents like squirrels or rats, in regards to what was less likely to make her sick. The downside of poultry, however, was that she did not have the dexterity to pluck feathers from a carcass, and they made trying to eat a pain. On the bright side, the other dogs were not brave enough to attempt to steal food that she had killed herself, so when she managed to catch a pigeon off-guard, she had the morsel all to herself. She went for the digestive tract and organs first, but left the large intestine alone. She consumed the muscle only once she had ingested the most nutritious parts of the bird. When she finished, she took the leftovers to the very edge of the dump to discard them.

That was when Squirrel followed her, and discovered that a group of people were loitering nearby. Mouse was, as usual, pressed against her as if she needed physical contact to survive. Mill knew that approaching humans, especially during the daytime when they could see more easily, was potentially dangerous, but she could smell food on them of some sort, even if she did not see any bowls or kibble. Treats, perhaps? Trying to win them over?

Then she spotted the pole, the sort with a loop at the end that people could put around an animal’s neck, and it would close up. It was being held by a tall man with silver hair and narrow eyes, and she could tell he was receiving instructions from a blonde who she could smell even at a distance, given that he was smoking, a square box tucked under one arm. A shorter man disappeared around the corner of the fence that walled off the dump, and she heard the sound of metal on hinges. It made her shudder from a memory she would rather forget.

The fourth person was the individual who made Mill incredibly nervous on sigh alone.

The man from the new apartment area she had gone to, the one whose glove she stole a few days ago. He leaned against a wall, dressed very casually, looking bored and disinterested, even annoyed that he was there.

Technically, Mill still had his glove; she had tucked it away for safekeeping in her den, and she discovered that when the fabric was rubbed it made little sparks. She also had plenty of time to actually look at the array on it, something she did far more than she thought she would, trying to puzzle out what it actually did. It had a little lizard on the bottom of it, and a glyph that looked like a flame near the top. They were the same details that she had seen the night before, but actually contemplating what the symbolism may have meant made her nervous. She knew alchemists could mess with the structure of things down to a molecular level, but she did not know how someone would manipulate elements that were not actually elements. Lightning and fire, the results of energy transfers and chemical reactions.

She was convinced the glove utilized such alchemy, even if she had no idea how the transmutation worked.

Not knowing exactly why the men were here but having some idea, Mill tried to avoid being within their direct line of sight, and listened to their voices as they drifted over. “Okay, so, if you can just get the rope around her neck, Falman, we can help you get her into the crate.”

The blonde man blew a puff of smoke, “Alright, Fuery, you’re the expert here, how do we get the dog to come close enough for us to even catch it?”

The man with glasses, Fuery, responded, “We have to wait for her to come to us, and we probably shouldn’t even be standing when she does. If you whistle or call her, it might actually scare her. We aren’t going to be able to catch a dog if it decides to run away.”

The smoker sighed, “Well, alright then,” He slowly lowered himself to the ground and held his cigarette in his teeth while he opened the box he had been holding, withdrawing what looked even at a distance like dog biscuits. His companions did the same, all except for the alchemist. When they were situated, the man tossed a treat some distance away, most likely meant to lure the dogs out.

Mill was _tempted_ , to say the least, but considering she was just as intelligent as the humans who were apparently trying to catch the dogs, possibly _her_ , she resisted the impulse to show herself.

Mouse, however, in a rare moment of independence, caved at the sight of food, slowly slinking out of their shared hiding spot to hesitantly pick up the treat, before wolfing it down like the little starved thing she was. In all honesty, Mill hoped these men would catch the small dog, if they did not particularly care who they were after. Mouse was unable to properly compete with the others for food, and was not big enough to properly defend herself from threats. Although Mill would be heartbroken to lose the creature who had become almost like a shadow, always there, she was not selfish enough to keep an animal by her side when she did not have the means to care for her.

“Oh…how cute…it’s a small dog…” Fuery spoke in a near-whisper.

When the men did not immediately move in response to Mouse’s appearance, Squirrel timidly appeared, slinking along and jolting with anxiety whenever a glance was thrown her way. She almost bolted when another treat was lightly tossed in her direction. “Poor thing’s got a limp…” The smoker commented. “Hey there, sweetheart…” He began to gently talk to the stray, and Mill quietly wondered if he would adopt her, himself. He was a soothing presence, it seemed, given that Squirrel had approached him at all.

Falman looked at the two dogs that had appeared, “Do these dogs look familiar?” He glanced in the direction of the alchemist, who was watching with a little more interest, now that some animals were actually present.

“Yes, these dogs were there,” He answered. It was unsurprising, when he spoke at a normal volume, that both Squirrel and Mouse nearly bolted again, only to be dissuaded by a few more treats.

“Hey, Lieutenant Colonel, lower your voice, you’re scaring them,” Fuery warned. _Military?_

When Leo appeared from a completely different direction, hackles raised, Mill knew she would have to show her face, if only to keep the more aggressive stray from hurting Mouse or Squirrel. The greater risk, though, was that he would try to hurt the humans, and if he did that, it was guaranteed that he would be put down. He bared his teeth and growled at the men, making them both stand back up with alarm, and the other two, friendlier dogs, quickly retreated back a bit.

“Don’t run, Havoc,” The alchemist warned, “It looks aggressive, but if you run, it’ll probably chase you.”

“Uh…yeah…hey there buddy….want a treat?” The smoker, Havoc, tossed a treat, and it did not even have a chance to hit the ground before it was snapped up. Leo kept growling, though, snout wrinkled. “I can’t tell if he wants to be friends or if he wants to kill us.” At that, the born-feral canine showed a flash of teeth. It seemed almost like a confirmation of the latter. He was seldom placated by anything other than food or someone stronger than himself.

Mill sighed, and stepped out into the open, and it was almost comical how everyone froze. Leo shot her a look and growled at her, but the chimera simply stared back, wrinkling her own snout at him, before giving a low rumble. The change was immediate. Leo immediately shrank back, licking his lips and looking away, ears lowered. He tucked his tail between his legs and wagged it in an effort to avoid her wrath. She snorted, and turned her attention to the humans, then.

“Is _that_ Karma? Sheesh, chief, I thought you were exaggerating,” Havoc looked decidedly shocked. It probably had everything to deal with how large Mill was—or Karma, if that was the name they had gone with. Some of the largest dog breeds probably did not achieve the same size as her.

The man, the Lieutenant Colonel—she knew that was a high military rank even if she had poor concept of how the chain of command worked—seemed annoyed with the comment, “I wasn’t exaggerating, but that’s the dog that took my glove.”

The silver-haired man with the dog-catching pole paled considerably, “I have doubts about my ability to catch a dog that size, even with assistance.”

Mill found this a bit more entertaining than she should have, having human-level intelligence and therefore understanding every word spoken by the men. With normal animals it would have been possible to plan things out within earshot, but Mill knew exactly what they were saying. Havoc glanced up at the designated dog-catcher, “Don’t worry about it, Falman. She doesn’t seem to really care about attacking us. Looks like she’s even keeping the mean one in line.”

That did not necessarily change the fact that this Falman person was supposed to slip a loop around her neck. She did not focus much on the other men, but she practically glared at him, and he cowered under her stare. “Is it possible that she has seen a dog-catching pole before? She seems to know what we’re doing.” Observant, although it should have been obvious. Dogs may have had less intelligence, normally, than human beings, but it was not hard to imagine that a canine that had escaped capture in the past remembered what a lead looked like.

“Dunno,” Havoc responded, “Hey, there, want a treat?” He spoke gently, and tossed her a biscuit a bit of a distance away from himself, clearly intended for her.

Mill regarded it with distain, before looking at the smoker sitting on the ground, blinking at him. She gave a pointed look at Falman.

Fuery laughed slightly, but it sounded nervous, “I don’t think she’s buying it Havoc. She actually looks insulted.” At this point, Leo swiftly dove down and snatched the treat, snapping it up and then looking up eagerly for more. Mill gave him a brief glance, before looking at the humans again. By this point, Squirrel and Mouse had worked up the nerve again to reappear. The chimera had no idea where the other two members of her pack were, but they seemed to be absent.

Havoc tentatively threw out another treat, and this time, Mill figured out an amusing way to respond.

She picked up the dog biscuit in her mouth, and promptly tossed it back at him, hitting him in the shoulder.

The man blinked, “Did she just throw the treat back at me?”

The Lieutenant Colonel smirked from where he was separate from the chaos, “I do believe she did. This is turning out to be more entertaining than I thought it would be.” He seemed amused by this whole situation, and it also appeared that he was not an active participant in the dog-catching effort. It looked almost as if the alchemist was _hoping_ the other men would fail, and was simply enjoying the show. It looked as though his comment was deliberately for the sake of riling up the others.

Havoc tried to fake taking a bite out of the dog biscuit as if her inhibitions about taking it were doubts regarding edibility, “It’s safe, come on,” He tossed it back to her.

She put a paw over the treat, and this time, slid it directly over to Squirrel, who gobbled it up without hesitation. Mill then made a big show of taking a long, exaggerated breath, and sighing. The claws on her left paw drummed lightly on concrete, a repetitive _tap-tap_ noise she could still produce, even if her fingers were significantly less flexible. The men seemed to focus on that gesture. It was something that a human would do, but the chances of them ever suspecting she was anything other than a dog were slim, even with an alchemist physically present.

A few more attempts to feed Mill treats occurred, with the chimera either deliberately passing them to Squirrel, Mouse, or Leo, or tossing them back. After about the sixth try, Boon and Lux emerged, with the female immediately bristling and backing away as far as she could, while the reddish hound walked right up to Havoc and ate a treat right out of his hand, before darting away from a petting attempt. “Well, this one seems friendly, but he’s not too sure about us, it looks like.” He commented.

Fuery looked at all the dogs, “There were six of them, right? Havoc, you said you might adopt one.”

Mill’s ears pricked forward at that.

“Well, yeah, if we can’t catch Karma and you don’t mind helping me out.” Mill knew they were talking about her, but it was bizarre, the name they had picked for her. It sounded like they were talking about some sort of mystical phenomenon, and not what looked like a gigantic stray dog. But still—it looked like one of them really did intend on catching one of the strays as a pet.

Which one…?

As if echoing her question, Fuery spoke again, “Which one do you think you could work with? If I didn’t live in the barracks I would have taken the little one.”

“The little lady with the limp,” He responded, “A dog like that needs a relaxing environment, and I think I can provide that.”

“Well, then we’ll come back for Karma later,” Fuery looked over at the Lieutenant Colonel, “Hey, I know you said you wouldn’t help with catching the big dog, but if we asked you to help catch that shepherd for Havoc, would you?”

The dark-haired man sighed, “So you’re not going to give up yet, just for today, huh? Fine, if you get the loop around her neck, I’ll help you get her to the crate.”

“Well, that’s the hard part, but doable. Falman, think you can manage?”

“If you can get the dog close enough, I’m confident I can catch her.” He responded.

Of course, Mill was in full support of this plan, as well, so when a treat was tossed to Squirrel, she took action. She grabbed the treat in her teeth, lightly, and tossed it a bit closer to the men, eyeing the length of the pole the catcher was using. Somehow sensing her plot, the dog gave her an imploring look not to make her go over to the men, but Mill snorted, forcing down the sense of guilt over her actions. It was better this way.

Because Mill was a dog, in Squirrel’s eyes, and thus more trustworthy, the leader of the pack, she slowly moved up to grab the treat, and Havoc tossed her a second. When she chose to take both, she did not notice until it was too late that the loop had been slipped around her neck.

When she realized it, Squirrel _screamed_. There was no other way to describe the sound.

Boon, Leo, and Mouse bolted, vanishing behind piles of rubbish, while Lux bristled and began barking, pacing back and forth to convey her stress, but too scared to actually try and attempt a rescue. Only Mill would have that sort of capability, but the gigantic chimera merely sat back on her haunches and watched as her companion vainly tried to escape, ears lowered.

As the men moved to take Squirrel away, Mill left, trying not to cry.

What was the point of weeping when you could not even shed tears?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SCRIPT:
> 
> (Driving to the vet)
> 
> Fuery: Hey, did Karma...I dunno...actually help us catch this dog?
> 
> Falman: I am curious to know what you will name her.
> 
> Havoc: I feel like 'Lady' would be a nice name, but she looks like a 'Beauty' too.
> 
> Roy: Hard to tell under that grime, to be honest.
> 
> Havoc: Nah, she's a pretty dog, she'll be gorgeous once she's clean. You'll see.
> 
> Roy: I take it you're not giving up on catching my glove thief, though...?
> 
> Havoc: Not a chance.


	3. Trust Not So Easily Won

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mill tracks Squirrel's new owner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter focusing mostly on Havoc, and how he interacts with Mill, even if Mill continues to act like a normal dog. Roy does not appear in this chapter, but he was mentioned. This is the story I write to relax, so it is not as long as Patchwork Guardian. 
> 
> It will be a bit slower, but eventually, Mill will start to connect with Team Mustang and wind up somehow getting adopted, as soon as we've had our fill of stray-dog antics.

Mill knew it could be dangerous, but she tracked the scent of the person who took Squirrel. Not during the day, when most of East City was awake and active, but in the middle of the night, when dense clouds had started to obscure the sky, and the only light available came from lamp posts scattered at regular intervals along the road. Long, eerie shadows cast by their hazy glow faded into inky darkness within far corners and alleyways. Although the streets had not changed, the world seemed like a completely different place, and to humans, it was almost threatening. For a stray dog that could see through gloom with ease, it meant convenient places to hide, and less chance of confrontation. For Mill, East City at night was _safe._

She walked unafraid through shadows, alone, this time. It had been easy to discourage the other dogs from following, when they were all anxious about the absence of a canine that Mill knew would not return. Even so, she wanted to make absolutely sure she knew where her former packmate had gone.

Squirrel’s scent trail led Mill down cobblestone streets into another area uncomfortably close to East Command, but on the other side of town from the high-ranking military officer whose glove she had stolen. This place was not the slums by any means, but it was not nearly as fancy as what a Lieutenant Colonel could afford, either. It was the second location her nose had brought her to, after being led first to a veterinary clinic. It was still open late at night, and a sole clerk, a young man with sandy hair and blue eyes, had been sitting at the front desk. He spotted Mill watching him through the window. She had promptly fled after that, when he tried to lure her in using food. She was not a normal dog; she would not be caught unless she allowed it to happen.

It was frustrating, because the one person to eagerly offer help was someone Mill could not allow herself to trust. It would be almost impossible for her to get a proper examination by a clinic without being discovered as something abnormal. Dogs and humans had different blood, and she was more than canine; she was bear and a bit of _mouse_ tossed in for good measure. Although she wanted food, a bath, and a roof over her head, she refused to go back into a cage like some sort of lab rat, or worse, be euthanized by humans out of a twisted sense of mercy. She knew someone would try to justify it, even if she _spoke_ , and begged and pleaded for her life.

She knew just how cruel humans were, and some part of her wondered if her mental separation, the ease with which she spoke of mankind as if it were different from herself, was because she had not been treated as such in so long. Perhaps it was to foster an inner allegiance with her pack, by turning people into something other than what she was. She just knew that her identity, who she had once been, was slipping away through her warped fingers. She missed reading books; she missed _drawing_ more than anything else. Mill was losing who she had been, and what she was turning into scared her. She was more than an animal, but it was hard to think of herself that way, when nothing she did was any different. She had not spoken human words in months.

Messing with the people who had come to capture her had been more fun than she thought it would be. In spite of losing Squirrel, toying with them had been almost addictive, and she realized it was probably because it had been so long, since she had been given any sort of challenge or puzzle that did not feel like her life was at risk. It had been a long time since she had been approached by someone who did not try to yell at her or threaten her with a weapon. There were people who tried to feed the street dogs on occasion, but leaving out a bowl of food was not the same as trying to catch one, and taking responsibility for their welfare.

This human had done that.

So Mill tracked Squirrel and the man, Havoc, to a plain brick apartment. Cars were parked along the street, but she did not recognize any of them as the one that had been used when they came to the dump, so it was likely that the vehicle had belonged to someone else not living there. She suspected that most of the men were soldiers, based on the one man’s rank being how he was addressed, and how everyone had been using their surnames; they had simply not been wearing uniforms. If that were the case, then Havoc probably walked to work each day. East Command was close enough to be reached on foot.

There were a few local dogs that started barking when they detected her presence, not her pack, but proper pets. She did not respond, and proceeded to keep walking, intent on leaving now that her curiosity had been satisfied—maybe raid the dumpster while she was at it—when she was alerted by the sound of a door opening and closing. She was immediately struck by the strengthening stench of tobacco, and other familiar scents. Her heart nearly leapt into her throat, but she forced herself not to do anything more than tilt her head to look sidelong at the person who had emerged onto the second floor railing.

Havoc was there, having apparently just lit a cigarette, looking visibly tired even at a distance, and wearing a loose grey shirt and sweatpants. He was frowning thoughtfully, either because of the dogs barking in the distance, because of nicotine withdrawal, or perhaps because he was still getting used to having Squirrel in his care. She suspected that the dog, acting the way she did around humans, was panicking and avoiding him even in his own home. Whatever the reason that the man had come outside, Mill could identify the exact moment that he realized she was there.

His eyes widened, and he jolted with surprise, before turning to look at Mill more directly. Then the surprise was gone, replaced with a more relaxed expression, and surprisingly, he waved, like he was greeting another person. That admittedly confused the chimera far more than it should have, because humans did sometimes react to animals like people, in spite of the fact that a dog was unlikely to register what a greeting was. Mill, though, being part human, followed the movement, and tilted her head visibly to the side, ears twitching and giving away the fact that she had not expected it. An uneasy prickle bloomed in her chest.

The moment passed, and she snorted, deciding that _yes_ , she was going to raid the trash, not wanting to think too deeply on why the almost friendly greeting filled her with distress. A person should have found it creepy, the notion of a big, half-starved dog literally following them home; if a human had done it, it certainly would be. Mill’s sense of guilt, though, was probably from sensibilities that could not be justified by her current situation. She ate garbage and lived in a dump, _literally_. She did not have the luxury of making phone calls and asking to come over or learning about where a person lived by asking a mutual acquaintance or friend. Randomly wandering up to someone in broad daylight was dangerous.

She went over to the building’s solitary dumpster and jumped up so that she was leaning against it with her front paws—hands—and found the groove for the side door. She easily slid it open, and set to work trying to identify bags that smelled like they had promising food inside. Mill heard the door open and close again, and relaxed a fraction, knowing that meant that the man had gone back inside. She tore open one of the garbage bags, and was able to lift out the tossed remains of what seemed to be a veggie platter; not many calories, but vitamin-wise, good for her. The carrots were not wrinkled, and the cut sweet peppers were dry, but still had decent flavor. The remains of tomatoes, celery, and cucumber, however, looked inedible, or so wilted they had no value.

Although she was happy about her find, really, she would kill for a good cut of fish, or some steak. She would greatly appreciate a heartier meal that actually left her feeling full.

Her work in picking out the carrots was disturbed by the door opening and closing _again_ , and this time, she was hyper-aware of footsteps walking along concrete, and then ringing against metal. She whirled around to see that the man, Havoc, had returned, and was descending the stairs of his apartment. It seemed he had every intention of approaching her.

Was this a thing with soldiers? Approaching a large dog while it was eating was a potentially dangerous thing to do. Although Mill had no intentions of attacking someone, she could easily be like Leo, and inclined towards aggression. Regardless of her lack of hostile intentions, she still disliked the thought of anyone getting close, so when Havoc came within a certain distance, she lowered her head and gaped her jaw in a warning, letting the dim yellow light from the apartment building reflect off her fangs. Her tail was raised and swayed to either side above her back, but it was most certainly _not_ a friendly wag. It was a display of her high rank in a pack hierarchy, and a warning that she was strong and knew how to use her power, even when she was starving.

Havoc wisely stopped, but displayed a shocking absence of fear in his posture or facial expression; only the barest traces of pheromones mixing with the reek of cigarette smoke told her that he knew she was dangerous and was respecting that. It was then that she noticed he was holding a plain white bowl in one hand, and she knew from the oily, mealy scent that it was filled with dry dog food. The man gave her a smile that was far too kind for the situation, and spoke, keeping his volume low, but talking like a normal person, still; not that babyish, sweet tone that grated on her nerves. _This_ was a voice that was soothing for Mill, gentle and quiet, but with respect to her intelligence. “Hey, if you were hungry, you could have just asked, you know?” There was almost something teasing about it, but it successfully killed any anger she might have mustered.

Mill closed her mouth, hiding her teeth from sight, and snorted, ears pricking forward. Did he bring the food for her? If he had been trying to catch her earlier, making sure that she had a full stomach was probably endangering his goal, because a dog that was not hungry was less inclined to grab treats. Whether or not this soldier registered that, though, she was uncertain. She could be paranoid and think this was a trap, but the chances of dry dog kibble being laced with sedatives was unlikely, and this man had not even expected Mill to be there in the first place.

In short, he was bringing her food on a whim, in spite of the fact that he had no idea what her temperament was beyond a brief meeting where she had actively avoided eating the treats he had tossed her way.

Havoc lowered himself to the ground— _very_ dangerous, vulnerable position for a human—and placed the bowl in front of him, taking a moment to blow a puff of smoke, which a light breeze quickly whisked away. Mill knew from the way the temperature seemed to be dropping, the way the air felt thick, almost heavy, and a dull pressure between her eyes, that a storm would be coming in the future. The wind was picking up a little; it would be hard to scavenge as long as it was raining, and had so many risks for those who lacked proper shelter. Was the man cold? If he was, he did not show it.

Mill did not immediately approach for the food, instead inspecting his hands, where they were, looking for any sign that he would try to grab her or do anything. The chances of someone like him hurting her was low, in reality. He might have been a taller human, and he had a reasonable build, but he was not exceptionally muscular or strong-looking. He was a smoker, too, which meant he would become winded more easily. Physically he did not appear dangerous, and he likely lacked stamina, which could have been a hidden asset for someone even if their body looked rather frail.

She still had to make sure there were no guns, though.

Havoc patiently waited, before raising both hand, spreading his fingers wide and turning them, “Got nothing on me to hide.” He said, as if he were reading her mind, granted, it was probably obvious she was doubting the safety of his offer. “You spend all day rejecting my treats, and now you follow me home. Do you miss Lucy that much?” It took Mill far longer than it should have for her to realize that Lucy must be Squirrel’s new name. It sounded far more fitting than the one she had come up with. If Mill had possessed the energy, she might have thought of something better than the names her pack got stuck with, but starving messed with your ability to think clearly about more detailed or complex things. She had not lost any intelligence after being transmuted, but concentrating and agonizing over a name that felt incredibly fitting, _perfect_ , was not something she had time for.

Mill snorted at the man; of course she missed Squirrel— _Lucy_. She was one of the pack members that had really connected with her, similar to Mouse. Lux and Boon stuck together with their son Leo in a little sub-unit of the pack, and Mill had taken Lucy and Mouse; now she was short a member, and the group dynamic was uncomfortably skewed in the favor of dogs that had some sort of blood or familial relation. She missed the companionship of someone that she did not have to challenge, and someone she could actually fight for and look after. It had satisfied some deep, instinctive desire to protect something, as if it had given her a sense of purpose.

She knew, though, that even if it was with a person who seemed to be a heavy smoker, which had its own health risks, Lucy was safer with this man. Havoc seemed gentle enough to work effectively with an animal that had been traumatized, and there was something soothing about his presence. Lucy would have a doctor to look after her when she was sick, and she would have regular meals. Mill’s pack would have one less mouth to feed. Logically, she knew it was better.

The corner of Havoc’s lip turned up a bit, “Trying to make sure I won’t hurt your friend?” He asked.

 _Yes. No._ She was not sure if that was the reason or not.

He continued, “Well, she’s doing just fine,” She had no idea if he was talking to her because he knew she understood, or if he was talking because it was just something he did to soothe what looked like a wild animal. The way he spoke, though, quietly, but still normal, and sitting in the most nonthreatening way possible, did succeed in putting her at ease. If he was not actively trying to catch Mill or do anything, if the food was just a kind gesture, she would gladly take it; though this man was still close enough to the bowl that he could reach out and touch her if she tried to approach.

Mill had not permitted any humans to touch her, and she feared instinctively reacting with aggression; she did not know exactly how much conscious control she had when she was in a state that naturally made it easier for her rational mind to slip. _Humans_ could become unpredictable in a state like hers, it was not even because she had uncontrollable instincts like an animal. She had _always_ been in control, but whether her unconscious was animal or human, her body was much more dangerous, and she could seriously hurt someone.

Her snout wrinkled, and she lowered her head, approaching warily, never taking her eyes off of the man. When she got to the bowl, she grabbed the edge of it with her teeth—enamel, based on the sound, _perfect_ —and dragged it further away, earning a surprised look and then a snicker when she was out of reach. “Don’t trust me, huh? That’s fine. I don’t expect you to, but I hope you warm up to me eventually. I think you’re winning over the Lieutenant Colonel, but he’s made it a point to act like he doesn’t want a dog.”

Ah, pride, then. How did this all start over stealing a stupid glove?

She huffed out a bit of air, almost like a scoff, before proceeding to eat the dog food with the speed one would expect from a creature that was starving, and worried that it might get snatched away. Taste hardly mattered when hunger took precedence. She could eat until she was full in her current state and still feel hungry, anyway. Her body needed more than just a single meal to get to a healthy weight.

Not that she was counting on that happening. Hunger was a thing that was so constant she almost forgot it was there. She forgot what it was like to _not_ feel hungry. She felt exhaustion even when she got a full night’s sleep, if the nightmares did not wake her first. There were times where she got violent impulses, the most frequent being a desire to rip out Leo’s throat, but she had never acted on it. There had been a time where she had just felt _numb_ and would have been tempted to hurt herself, just to feel _something_ , but now she felt _everything_ , and she knew it all boiled down to the fact that she was slowly dying from a lack of nourishment.

She had trouble determining which was worse, feeling too little emotion, or having so much it was hard to control.

The food must be making Mill emotional.

As quickly as she had started, she finished eating, not leaving a single crumb, and then backed away. She did not know if she felt full or not, or if her stomach was just opting not to respond. She did think it stabilized her mood, a bit, after the fact, _for now_ she would not starve to death, at least. Havoc seemed to be safe, at least, but she had no idea how long that would last when it seemed like his people wanted to catch her to become a pet. The military seemed like the worst-possible people to talk to. Mill _could_ talk, she had not lost the ability, but actually doing so was so risky she avoided it. One wrong move could land her in a bad situation with something like that.

Havoc snickered again at her calculating expression, not bothered at all by obvious suspicion, “Did you even taste that? You know you can get more if you come back, but I don’t think the neighbors will be happy if you start going through dumpsters.” They usually were not, but she did not expect this man to bring her food.

Mill decided that she did need to leave and get back to her makeshift den, because the wind was picking up, but also, she knew that it was probably for the best if she gave some sort of sign that she was actually acknowledging this man sitting in front of her. She took a deep breath, her mind made up, and walked over to him, enough that he leaned back, growing just a tad bit nervous, “Ah, getting a bit close, there, Karma…” he did not dare try to run, now.

She sniffed him, and promptly turned her head to the side and sneezed, before pawing at her snout. It was hard to inspect people who smoked. She wanted to properly remember this person’s smell, though, so she did it in spite of how much he irritated her nose. She sent him a sidelong look and gave a low, rumbling whine of protest. He seemed to know what the problem was, and grinned at her. When he raised a hand, though, whether to pet her or form some sort of gesture, she hurriedly backed away, and bolted without looking back.

She would get close and sniff someone, but petting was off-limits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I assure you Roy will appear in the next chapter.
> 
> SCRIPT:
> 
> Fuery: So, why is it just the three of us this time? I don't think I have the strength for this...
> 
> Havoc: Because she's a lot less scared when there's fewer people.
> 
> Roy: I look forward to seeing the two of you try to wrestle that dog into a cage, if you can even lure her with treats.
> 
> Havoc: I don't give up easily. I brought something different this time! (Holds up bag of jerky)


	4. How to Make an Impression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A stray dog interrupts an attempt to catch a criminal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of tension and more complexity added to the story. Please note my insomnia was acting up again when I wrote this, so please forgive any grammatical errors. I tend to mess up when sleep-deprived.

Although it could go a week or more without raining in East City, when a low-pressure system moved into the area, it would similarly last for many days, with only occasional breaks, during which a constant mist fell, or clouds threatened to spill at any moment. It had been raining for several days, making everyday tasks into something more like an ordeal. People who opted to walk to work each day would find that gentle gusts of wind between buildings became strong enough to invert an umbrella or even snap it completely. People whose hair naturally fell in curls or waves struggled to keep it looking neat from the humidity, and certain kinds of fabrics wrinkled horribly. Although logic would dictate that Amestrian military uniforms, being made of _wool_ , should be almost impossible to keep neat, they strangely looked better than anything else Roy could have worn.

It was still a curse, though, that he was called on his off-day to search for an armed robber who had stabbed someone to death. He had thankfully become an expert at budgeting his time so that he could go on dates after work, so rescheduling a meeting with one of his informants proved to be easy; even so, it was annoying that he had to do so in the first place. Weather like today was awful because it entailed his gloves not working, and jokes at his expense from Havoc due to his sour mood. If he got into a confrontation with the murderer, he would have to rely on using a gun. Roy knew how to shoot several different types of firearms, as such knowledge was a part of basic military training, but they were not his primary weapon.

It would be simple for the regular military police to catch the criminal, but as he stared out of the passenger window of the car Hawkeye was driving, he knew they had been sent out because of the exact nature of the crime. A young man in his mid-twenties, stabbed no less than sixteen times in the neck and torso. Stabbings always drew more attention than when people were shot unless a huge number of people were hurt; there was something visceral and grisly about bladed weapons. Beyond that, it was not simply once or twice, but a number of wounds that suggested that the killing had been done in some sort of brutal frenzy. The wallet that had been taken from the victim seemed more like an afterthought, than anything else. People had quickly deemed the perpetrator to be a high priority, to be removed from the streets as soon as possible.

Hence, killers sent to catch a murderer, the Flame Alchemist and the Hawk’s Eye. The rest of Roy’s staff was on the search, too, but everyone else was in different cars. Frustratingly, a dense fog made it hard to see people at a distance, and the Lieutenant Colonel all but glared, trying to see anything.

The radio in the vehicle crackled to life, _“Sighting on 24 th Street North, headed West.”_ What followed was a series of responding calls, everyone circling around to converge, with regular updates of where the suspect was running to.

“Just when you thought you would only be getting ready to go to a show, now we’re after a guy on a stabbing spree. What an interesting way to spend a morning,” Roy grumbled, after responding for his own car.

If Hawkeye was annoyed, it showed more in her voice than in her expression, “Part of the job description, sir,” She could care less for his dates, he knew. “I hope you notified your date of the cancellation, at least,” No matter what she was thinking, she kept her eyes on the road.

“I’m not forgetful enough to stand someone up,” He responded, annoyance streaking his tone.

“Yet you conveniently forget to fill out your paperwork, sir.” To be fair, Roy would have to do them no matter what, since they were his own papers to sign, but because he was a horrible procrastinator, Hawkeye would never leave him alone about it. It was not even that his work was difficult, it was just tedious. Reading papers that were not related to alchemy or strategy were boring for him. Forms for medical leave and payment for contractors became painful to look at, eventually, and it ended with Roy doing increasingly bizarre things to put it off just a little longer.

The two lapsed into silence, for a bit, before Hawkeye spoke again, “We’re almost to 22nd Street North, so I’ll be parking now, sir.” On the map of East City, the criminal was sighted heading in their general direction, so it made sense to be a few streets further down. It was also a bizarre coincidence, because this was the same area that Roy and his men had been through trying to search for Karma and the other stray dogs. He doubted he would see them, if only because it was raining and the animals were most likely going to spend their time seeking shelter and staying dry, versus looking for food. For anything suffering from malnutrition, though, this weather was a horrible phenomenon; it prevented efforts to gain sustenance and doubled as a health hazard if they got wet.

Another voice came across the radio, _“Suspect engaged at the intersection of 23 rd Street North and 18th Avenue North. Officer Brooke is down! Suspect is on the run towards 22nd Street North! Requesting immediate medical attention!”_ The two officers in the squadron car prepared to get out; he was headed right for them.

“Perfect planning, Second Lieutenant,” Instead of his gloves, he withdrew a pistol from its holster. No matter how much of a regular occurrence getting hurt in their line of work could be, it was chilling to hear the panic over the radio. The officer had likely been hurt very badly, but to elicit that kind of response, there was a very real chance they could die, especially if they had been stabbed multiple times like the first victim that sent them on this mission.

“Thank you, sir,” Hawkeye went for her own gun, and the two of them hurriedly got out of the car, with both of them squinting due to the low visibility. The fog reduced the distance at which someone could see, which was an advantage or disadvantage, though things were still biased in the military’s favor. They had the ability to coordinate their efforts compared to a person on foot. The doors were left open, but the Second Lieutenant had taken the key to start it, so even if an attempt was made to steal it, the vehicle would become a trap instead. It was also so they could continue to receive updates, if any.

_“Another officer has been attacked, minor stab wound; requesting medical attention. First aid is being administered.”_

“They’re coming from that direction,” Roy nodded at one specific road branching from theirs, “Be on the look-” He was cut off by the radio again.

Another officer dialed, and he could hear a mix of frantic energy and, unusually, confusion, _“Suspect has been engaged by….by a stray dog! He’s been disarmed!”_

_What?_

Another voice came over the radio, _“Clarify,”_ There was a hint of irritation, almost as if they were wondering if it was a joke being told in a very bad situation that just saw someone severely injured.

 _“A stray dog…it emerged from an alleyway along 18 th Avenue North and attacked the suspect after a third officer was assaulted. It pulled him off of the officer and disarmed him. It has him pinned, but it isn’t biting him. Request for further orders?”_ It was obvious the officer had no idea how to deal with this turn of events, and frankly, Roy was at a loss for words, as he exchanged a glance with Hawkeye. What did someone even do in a situation like this? If the dog actually bit someone and its health history was unknown, then they would be expected to kill it and take an autopsy to check for rabies, but apparently, this one was either relatively docile, or somehow knew that was dangerous. There was obvious reluctance in the voice of the officer speaking over the radio, also; he clearly did not want to hurt the animal. It sounded like the dog had charged in to rescue someone.

It did not even require words for the two soldiers to agree to head down their road towards the location and see for themselves. The suspect had been apprehended by the dog less than a block away, and if they ran, they would catch whatever was going on. They went down the street and rounded the corner, and were met with a rather bizarre sight.

 _Of course_ it was Karma. Ever since she took his glove she had apparently deigned to show up everywhere, even during work.

The big stray had a man pinned beneath her, one passive paw on the back of his head while the rest of her was on his torso, apparently heavy enough that he could not lift her or do anything to fight. Her ears were pricked forward and alert, eyes focused on her catch, with her tail curved into the air and wagging from side-to-side, although it was not the rapid, friendly sort of movement a pet displayed. This body language was aggressive. The canine’s snout was wrinkled slightly, and even at a distance Roy could hear the ominous growling. It was deep, almost like the rumbling of a motor.

The suspect’s hands were out in front of him, as if he had been tackled from behind, and Roy could see the shine of fresh blood on him, while the animal’s fur was wet, but free of any crimson stain. Because of the rain that had occurred earlier, he could see gleaming silver where some of the filth that had been matted into her coat had washed away. The floating mist combined with the image made the dog look like some sort of supernatural force, although he knew, fully well, that the animal was as solid as himself.

Roy’s heart nearly stopped when he saw the soldier who had been attacked. Heymans Breda was clutching at his left forearm on the ground, where a crimson stain was blooming; Havoc was next to him, trying to help him elevate the injury so that it slowed the bleeding. Another officer was approaching, holding a bandage wrap. Breda could only look at the scene with wide eyes, torn between his intense phobia of dogs and the knowledge that he might have been killed, had the dog not interfered.

“Sir,” Hawkeye interrupted Roy’s thoughts, “Your orders?” He was currently the highest-ranking officer pursuing the criminal on the streets. He would be met with immediate obedience, whatever he decided.

The dog had saved his subordinate, and had not done anything to warrant being killed. “Convince her to let him go, but don’t hurt her.” He responded.

“Very well, sir.” She aimed her gun with the intention, perhaps, of a barely-missing shot, one that would startle anyone who was near it into fleeing, but before she could pull the trigger, the dog seemed to register the threat, and immediately backed away from the criminal she had kept pinned. The Second Lieutenant fired anyway, chipping the cobblestones in front of his face; they did not need him attempting to run a second time. The dog was spooked and darted a short distance away, before seeming to realize there was no threat. She slowly turned back around and observed the proceedings from a distance, casting wary glances at the number of military police around her. True professionals, they did not try to approach the dog, in spite of her obvious role in apprehending the person they were after.

The murderer, sufficiently warned by Hawkeye’s shot, wisely did not try to struggle when he was grabbed by a group of officers, who pulled his arms behind his back and promptly handcuffed him, grimacing at the sight of blood. The man seemed docile, now, either because he was too terrified of being mauled or shot, or because he no longer had a weapon. Wide eyes darted between Hawkeye and Karma, as if he could not decide which opponent was more frightening. His gaze was abnormally dark, the pupils dilated; he might be under the influence of some sort of drug.

Karma recovered from the loud noise scare far faster than Roy would expect, and her eyes trailed after the culprit as he was taken away. She had been joined by a small, fluffy form, the little dog from before that seemed to practically glue itself to her side. Roy did not see the other three animals, though, that he knew were part of the feral pack. While people took the murderer away, another person was collecting the blood-coated knife lying on the ground nearby in an evidence bag, before the mist turned into proper rain and interfered.

Eventually, though, the dog seemed to grow bored of watching this, and slowly approached Breda and Havoc when first-aid had been finished, frightening the former. “H-hey! I’m scared of dogs! _Hey!”_ He tried to backpedal on the ground, before Havoc hissed at him to remain still. He promptly froze when the dog began sniffing at his hair. Although she was close enough that someone could reach out and touch her, nobody dared. Karma seemed to only appreciate interaction on her own terms, and did not like humans dictating things. That had been proven by her unwillingness to consume treats in a context where someone could catch her, and the apparent speed with which she devoured a bowl of food when threats seemed absent, at least according to Havoc.

“You hate bad guys too, huh?” Havoc spoke to the dog quietly, but did not use a high-pitched voice. Karma’s ears pricked forward, as if recognizing the words. “Thanks, you probably saved Heymans from getting really hurt.”

 _“Havoc!”_ Breda’s voice had gone shrill from being in close proximity to the dog, “Don’t talk to it…” He spoke as if he was in danger.

Karma gave a snort that scared Breda back into silence, before backing away. He was not able to express much relief, though, because the smaller dog tried to inspect him as well. He stiffened with a whimper, but did nothing else. The little dog probably weighed only around three kilograms, and could easily be kicked away, though that would likely incur the wrath of every person present, and that of the larger, scarier animal that had just decided to leave him alone. Karma was obviously protective, although it surprised Roy that she had apparently done something to help humans, when she obviously distrusted them.

He was still convinced that she had purposely allowed Falman to catch Havoc’s dog, Lucy. There was something deliberate about Karma’s actions and behaviors he could not quite place. She had tracked Havoc down, seemingly concerned about the other canine’s welfare. The fact that she tossed back treats during attempts to lure her, and could open dumpster side doors, which were supposed to be inaccessible to animals, spoke of an innovation that dogs did not normally possess. Karma was highly intelligent, that much Roy knew for certain, but he struggled to determine if she knew things because she had figured them out on her own, or if she was somehow a service animal or well-trained pet that had been lost.

She wandered over to Falman, who had been avoided completely while he was carrying the dog-catching pole at the dump several days ago. He stiffened when she went to sniff at one of his hands that he kept plastered to his side, apparently too scared to move. When he dared to twitch his fingers, as if contemplating petting her, she almost danced away from him. The little dog followed Karma and, similar to Breda, inspected the Warrant Officer’s boots, briefly reaching out a paw and tapping on his toes, wagging its tail slightly, almost as if it wanted to play, before losing interest and following its leader.

“I take it this is the dog the boys have been after you to adopt?” Hawkeye asked, returning her gun to its holster.

“Yeah, seems like she’s showing up everywhere now.” They watched as she went up to Fuery, next, but the dog was quickly deterred by the man’s excited gasp, moving away and pinning back her ears slightly. He recognized this and held still, and after a moment’s hesitation, she went to sniff him, as well. The man was equal parts happy and uneasy, being at just the right height when standing to be eye-level with Karma, or even slightly shorter.

“Looks like she’s taken an interest in your men, sir. She’s not approaching anyone else.”

That…was true. Karma very deliberately avoided anyone who was not one of his subordinates. “Familiarity, perhaps,” Roy responded. That had to be why. Karma had seen them before but had been too wary of being caught or grabbed against her will to risk getting closer to people in his team. Breda had perhaps been inspected by association, given that Havoc was present. Otherwise, even when one of the military police tried to whistle to get her attention, she did not even spare him a glance.

She started walking over to Roy and Hawkeye, and he felt himself tense uncomfortably. The _last_ time Karma had gone near him, he had been worried she would take his hand off, and he had no idea where his stolen glove was. The dog, though, appeared more scared of Hawkeye, perhaps because she had seen her fire her weapon. Roy unconsciously took a step back—He would never hear the end of it, now, because that was a sign of _fear_ —when Karma began inspecting his sole female subordinate.

“She’s not aggressive, sir.” She told him. The dog’s ears pricked, as if she were listening to their conversation.

“She took down an armed murderer,” He said, almost arguing the point. Karma showed no indication of attacking anyone, but clearly, she _could_. He was equal parts grateful and alarmed, because it sounded like the previous people to get attacked had been put in serious, life-threatening danger. Although it was possible the man would have been shot before he could do any further damage to Roy’s subordinate, he did not want to contemplate what might have happened, had the dog not interfered. The other people on the case said as much; she had pulled the attacker off of Breda.

The dog _could_ fight, _could_ pose a threat, but would pick and choose who she identified as an enemy. The fact that she was _not_ something he could control scared him, because the dogs Roy admired were _pets_ , not these wild, feral things he had been dealing with lately.

“She took down someone who was actively attacking other people, sir.” Hawkeye pointed out.

She was right, of course. If people thought she was a serious danger they would not allow her to wander around the area, but the military police were going about their work, unbothered. The most that happened was one or two people whistling to get attention and not gaining anything for their troubles, and one person taking a picture, probably as a genuine part of the investigation, to discuss the animal that had interfered.

His time was up, because Karma was approaching _him_ , next. Roy froze, trying not to let any sort of anxiety show on his face when the dog looked directly at him, as if to read his expression. It was hard to avoid eye-contact when she was taking up most of his vision. “You’ve been showing up everywhere. Do you just enjoy messing with us?” He asked aloud, mostly because he could, and the dog seemed to pay attention to when people spoke. There was some truth to his words, though. Karma had been showing up constantly since the night she stole his glove, whether because someone was actively seeking an encounter or by sheer coincidence.

He thought he saw her tail wag briefly at that, almost like amusement, but the general demeanor of the dog was serious. Her eyes were a dark brown, large and expressive, and they held an immense amount of intelligence. Something frighteningly like true comprehension was there, and Roy got the disturbing feeling that Karma was reading him. There was _hunger_ and exhaustion, mixed with a cunning gleam and the pride of a creature that knew how its presence affected people.

It was there for a moment, and gone the next, Karma’s attention flickered over to where a soldier had successfully won over the little dog, by whatever means. Filthy as it was, the woman gently stroked its head, and shockingly, the dog allowed itself to be picked up in her arms.

Roy saw the emotions, then. Something fond, yet sad. The soldier took the dog with her and set her down on a seat in one of the patrol cars, discussing keeping her with a few others. Having warmed up to the people around it, the little dog wagged its tail and looked genuinely happy at the attention it was receiving.

“Looks like your friend found a new owner,” Roy commented.

Karma glanced at him sidelong, and there was a quiet rumble in her throat; not a growl, but a response, as if directly to his statement, before growing distracted. The rest of Roy’s team, except for Breda and Havoc, were approaching, and the dog’s ears pinned back in response, growing nervous again.

Before Falman and Fuery could get close, the dog bolted, far faster than Roy would attribute to a creature her size, and disappeared into the mists.

Fuery stared after her, “She’s _fast_.”

A random officer spoke up, “I’m guessing you’re with one of the cars that got here after we caught the guy, Master Sergeant?”

“Yeah?” He turned to the military police officer.

“You’ll get to read about it in the reports later, sir, but that dog,” He pointed in the direction where Karma went, “ _Immediately_ , went after that guy, when the Second Lieutenant was stabbed.”

“What are you guys going to do about her?” Fuery asked.

The officer shrugged, “Nothing, sir. No reason to put her down. I’d love to say we’d take her in, but a dog like that is going to pick and choose who she associates with, and frankly, trying to wrestle with her would be difficult. But…eh, maybe give her a nice steak. She’s earned it. Could definitely use it.” He greeted Roy and the other higher-ranking officers respectfully before taking his leave.

Roy sighed, “Well, now I owe a debt to a dog, of all things,” He muttered, before speaking to the rest of his team, “Alright, we’ll be headed back to Command to retrieve our paperwork. Once we’re there, we can either fill out the reports for this incident there, or we can pay Second Lieutenant Breda a visit in the hospital. Take your pick, just make sure you’ve decided before we get there.”

A year ago, Mill would have considered herself to be cowardly, and would have shamelessly admitted that she would prefer to flee at the sight of violent conflict, versus getting involved. People could choose to pass judgement on her, but Mill from a year ago had been fully-human, and weighed less than forty-five kilograms. The chances of her ever winning in a fight would have been dismally low; she considered avoidance to be common sense. While she was plenty willing to call someone else who was capable of intervening, she was wary of doing things that could have ended with retaliation.

Mill was not a person who put much stock in concepts like honor. There was no such thing as a dirty move in a serious fight, and any opportunity that was presented should be taken, whether that involved tossing sand into a person’s eyes or kicking them in the groin.

The only reason she chose not to bite when her brain made the snap-decision to go after the man with the knife was because she had grown up in a rural area. She knew that a dog with an uncertain health history was liable to be shot by a game warden and taken to be autopsied for rabies. Even if Mill was moving to save the life of another person, because she smelled the reek of blood _long_ before she reached the conflict— _Someone else got hurt, she didn’t know who but the smell was_ strong—she knew human lives, even someone who was extremely violent, a murderer, might take precedence over hers. Attacking at all was a calculated risk that could see her, at the very least if there was a negative consequence, driven out of East City to evade capture.

She had grabbed the man by the back of his shirt, and effectively threw him off the heavyset military officer whose arm he had stabbed. It had been startlingly easy to bat the knife away, and as soon as he was disarmed, the would-be murderer realized he was in trouble and fled. Mill, for once allowing herself to engage in her predatory instincts to pursue prey, chased him down and tackle him, restraining him so that his head could not twist around. Even half-starved, she weighed enough that it was not possible him to lift her from his prone position.

It had been so, very easy, and far more satisfying than it should have been, given the context. It was pleasant, the sense of accomplishment that she felt filtering past the general numbness that tried to take hold when fear was not an option anymore. It felt like an outlet for the rage and frustration she dealt with on a daily basis, and afterwards, even if she felt painfully exhausted—when did she not? The hunger sapped her strength—she felt a strange sense of peace.

Startling all of the officers had been a bonus, though she had no idea what the rank markings meant on their shoulders, except for the Lieutenant Colonel, only because she knew his rank before she saw him wearing a uniform. She saw stars, though, and knew that probably meant something significant. They had all permitted her to smell them, documenting that information for later, although the man whose life she had likely saved apparently had some sort of phobia.

Then at some point Mouse had found a potential home, and Mill’s heart broke all over again, before she realized where she was, the presence of people getting _closer_ , and immediately needed to flee and be alone. She was not used to being surrounded by people anymore.

Still, she could not bring herself to regret anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SCRIPT:
> 
> (At the hospital)
> 
> Havoc: So, what are you thinking about?
> 
> Breda: Why didn't you make the dog go away!?
> 
> Havoc: Because I'm trying to win her over, and she saved your life. There's no way she was going to hurt you.
> 
> Breda: That doesn't matter! I'm still scared of dogs!
> 
> Havoc: To be fair, I don't know that if I tried to shoo her off that it would work.
> 
> Breda: *Shaky breath* Fair enough...


	5. A Myth in Captivity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A serious effort is all it takes to capture the legendary stray that now captivates East City.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mill's time as a stray is coming to an end, in this chapter! I tried to write this to the best of my ability, but I would like to say that there is a reason that she gets captured so easily. Mill is not a character who takes violence lightly, and certain acts like biting or scratching could end with her being restricted even more than if she was compliant or seemed purely afraid. It is not beneficial for her to behave aggressively, no matter how horrible the situation is. Also, she is a character that tries to pick and choose her battles, and especially in her current state, she will avoid wasting energy if she can.
> 
> She won't be able to do anything impressive until she's in better health.

It took a full four days before the rainy weather in East City finally dissipated enough for the sun to start shining again. While the world was still a bit damp, puddles scattered in odd patches on the ground, there was warmth where the rays of light directly hit. Mill allowed herself the small luxury during an early hour of the morning to simply sit in a sunny patch and enjoy basking there, getting _dry_. After, she would allow herself to be consumed by worry over her future survival once more, and try to swallow the feelings of loneliness and separation that had grown painful, since Squirrel and Mouse had been adopted by human owners. She was accustomed to checking around her feet and body on a constant basis, half-expecting Mouse to be there, a living tripping hazard. She was cautious when she woke up in the morning, wondering why Squirrel—now Lucy—had not tried sneaking into her den to curl up with her while she slept.

The rain had carried with it a drop in temperatures that, while not yet something to be concerned over, warned of impending winter. Mill knew that the dogs getting adopted out of her pack was probably the best thing that could have ever happened to them. She did not know exactly how cold East City could get, but temperatures below freezing would make accessing water difficult, and sleeping in a den that was not correctly fortified could result in the inhabitant never waking up.

Instinctively, Mill knew how to make a den, and her dwelling in the dump looked like it had been made by a bear, except instead of being supported by plant matter like tree roots or grasses, her home was composed mostly of suitable junk that had been tossed out. It was a deeper hole in the ground, lined with old shirts and other fabric items that had been discarded because of damage or stains. The edges of the pit were raised compared to the surrounding earth, making it resemble a nest. Mill had used dirt and clay from other areas to make a tiny wall on one side, and the roof of the structure was a chaotic mess of broken wooden pallets, industrial materials, and whatever else she could find. She tried to line the interior walls whenever she had spare time with whatever she thought might work as effective insulation.

It was a well-crafted den to her keen eye and the ursine part of her nature, but even then, Mill was underweight and still probably not eating enough to maintain what she had currently. If she became too thin, it would become a struggle to stay warm even in cooler weather that was not yet considered hazardous. Snow or rain would make the risk of hypothermia or developing pneumonia even worse. She was probably already at an increased risk of illness, because malnutrition was guaranteed to negatively impact her immune system. She was already lucky that she had not yet contracted something from the foods she ate or when she chose to drink out of puddles, which were probably teeming with all sorts of nasty things.

The scents reached her first, before a less-stable pile of garbage further away collapsed in a shower of clanging metal, broken glass, and whatever else the bags contained. What followed was a man’s familiar voice spewing curses, and more voices asking if the first was alright. Alerted to the presence of humans entering their territory, the dogs in Mill’s pack began barking at the intrusion. Mill herself already knew who was there, so she did not bother reacting to their presence, beyond waiting to see them emerge into her line of sight.

Eventually, into the little clearing at the heart of the dump stumbled the Lieutenant Colonel, Havoc, and bizarrely enough, the person she had saved from being stabbed. She had no idea why he would be there, heroics aside, considering he was quite scared of dogs, and it was obvious even now. He was looking around at the animals barking at him, clearly fighting the impulse to flee. He dare not do so, because if he did, that would only encourage more aggressive ones—namely Leo—to give chase. He had an interesting—meaning _food_ —backpack slung over one shoulder.

Havoc was the first to spot her, pointing at where she was reclining just outside of her den, “There she is!” He tried to keep his voice lower on some level, wary of provoking the dogs. He then proceeded to almost trip over a pile of rubbish, and had to throw out his arms to keep his balance. It was easy for her to wait for everyone to make their way over before standing up, putting herself in a position to flee if they did anything she disliked. The humans who were unaccustomed to navigating precarious junk heaps would find it almost impossible to pursue the dogs who lived here.

“So this is where the infamous Karma lives,” The Lieutenant Colonel commented, examining the den from a safe distance. His expression went from curiosity to fascination.

“Uh…hey there…” The large man looked uneasy being near her, especially when he drew her attention. “Lieutenant Colonel, doesn’t it look…I dunno…like a person made it?”

Havoc huffed a laugh, “Why would somebody come into the dump just to construct a doghouse out of trash?”

“Havoc has a point, Breda,” The Lieutenant Colonel pointed out. So that was the man’s name, Breda. “It’d be easier for someone to buy materials and build a proper structure, and probably better for Karma, too. Though… the construction looks pretty fancy for something an animal did. Guess that’s just further proof we shouldn’t underestimate these dogs.” Den construction was the specialty of a bear, but human intelligence meant she could adapt and choose materials that were unfamiliar more easily. The soldiers had no way of knowing that Mill was human in any way, though. “I wonder if she still has my glove in there…”

Havoc grinned at him, “Probably not, but it’s hilarious to see that you’re still bothered by it.”

The raven-haired man shot him a flat look of annoyance.

She did, in fact, still have his glove. Her ears pricked forward and she turned around and went into her den, churning over a few piles of fabric until she saw the tell-tale white, slightly smudged, but still cleaner relative to everything else Mill was forced to pick up. She was, admittedly, loathe to part with it, if only because it was one of the few things that she could puzzle over. By this point, though, she knew what the array looked like by heart, and could probably draw it from memory. It was most likely in some way a _weapon_ , but she had stopped Breda from being stabbed, so she would have to trust the soldier not to hurt her out of respect for what she did.

She picked it up while the men stared, and emerged from her den with it in her mouth. Havoc’s eyes went wide, _“No way_ ,” He breathed. “No way is that the same…” He drifted off when she set it down, deliberately palm-up at first, before flipping it over to reveal the array on the back. She then moved away a safe distance, allowing its true owner to retrieve it; a slow process when you were trying to avoid tripping.

Breda was half-hiding behind Havoc when he reacted, “H-hey…I’m starting to think that dog can understand us!” He was visibly trembling, and it was a wonder that Leo had not gone after him, as much anxiety as he displayed, or even how much she could sense from pheromones alone. Anxiety was a trigger for aggression in canines, whether it was fearful responses from prey, or a human or packmate who was excessively stressed. “It kept your glove the whole time, Lieutenant Colonel.”

“Well, I’m pleased…though I don’t think I want to know what’s on this.” He eyed the dark, greasy stains that marred the fabric with distain. It was probably old cooking oil or decaying plant matter, if Mill were to seriously evaluate whatever grime was ruining the fabrics that lined her den. She could have tried to wash the glove somewhere in a puddle, but there was a chance she would just make things worse. It was possible that the alchemist would find some way to clean it, but it was also likely that he would simply throw it away. She was sure he had a spare somewhere.

Mill was wondering, now that she had returned the little accessory, if they would give her the food they had brought with them, and furthermore, if they were going to try to capture her using something laced with tranquilizers. It smelled like it was wet versus dry, and she knew that it was easier to mask a sedative that way. She had a heavy aversion to anything that would make her sluggish or, as a human trying to catch a dog would hope, more compliant to someone else’s wishes. She could perhaps pretend to drop and fall asleep, and hope her weight was enough for them not to carry her, but if they tried to pick her up between the three of them—so long as Breda was calm enough—they could probably manage, as light as she was currently. If she was not entirely sedated, she would immediately start struggling instinctively, once grabbed, until it kicked in. She might even bite out of impulse.

…Mill was obsessing far too much over things. This was a poor choice of location to sedate an animal because of all the hazards lying around, and secondly, why was she even worried when it would be easy to see them tamper with a can of wet food if it was still sealed? She could additionally count on the humans not expecting her to understand every word they spoke, and they might plot her capture openly. All she had to do to tell what they were up to was watch, but she was _positive_ she could smell more people drifting from outside the dump, and that made her nervous. Something felt off.

Even if she was a human chimera, Mill feared capture just as much, if not more than any other stray.

Havoc fished out a cigarette and lighter from his pockets with faintly trembling hands—he must have been having nicotine withdrawals—and wasted no time in taking a deep breath of carcinogenic smoke. “I think she’s suspicious, chief, she’s looking at us funny.” Mill could guard her expressions if she wanted to, but she was a stray dog, being wary on some level and having it show made a lot more sense. Also, did he _have_ to smoke so close to where she slept at night? The smell would linger for a very long time before it dissipated, especially since it was no longer raining. She knew that logically, the dump already reeked, but burning tobacco was particularly nasty, if she were to rank scents she hated.

“Breda, you got the stuff?” The Lieutenant Colonel asked. The phrasing sounded like something a person would say during a drug deal.

“Yeah…hold on…” He pulled the backpack across his front, trying not to drop it as he unzipped it and reached into it, pulling out a can of dog food from a brand Mill would not recognize. Clearly, they intended to keep her around, because it was a smaller one, and she could hear more metal rattling around in the bag now that it was open. “Havoc, take this, come on, I gotta get the lead.” When his hand was free, he withdrew a familiar dog-catching pole. It was practical, in that it would collapse down, apparently. She would make note of that.

Breda’s hands shook so badly when he began extending out the loop that his commanding officer took notice, “You’re positive you won’t let go of the pole once you’ve got the loop around her neck?” He asked, sounding doubtful.

“N-no problem! Just a bit nervous…I mean we all saw what she did to that guy…I mean I’m seriously glad she was there, but…”

“You’re scared of dogs, we know, but you’re the best person for grabbing her. Everyone else will come rushing in to help out if that isn’t enough. Even the vet is here to administer a sedative if needed. We don’t want to give her too much.”

Oh, she really needed to be careful. They were serious. This was bad. She had drawn too much attention to herself with her stunt a few days ago. She did not regret preventing someone from getting stabbed, but maybe she should have risked trekking further south and hoping she was in an area that stayed warm year-round, versus remaining in East City. Lux, Boon, and Leo were true feral dogs that had probably been living the way they had for years, and could survive without her, though they could still use more food. At least Lucy and Mouse—whatever her new name was—would have homes.

She needed to leave.

“Oh…she knows this sort of thing. What’re we gonna do if she doesn’t even let me get close?”

She watched out of the corner of her eye as the alchemist rubbed the fabric of the glove she had returned, sparks coming from it; she had at least managed to keep it dry enough that it still did tricks…maybe that was a bad idea. He had not objected to someone firing a narrowly-missing bullet to scare her. She was convinced that the glove was dangerous, and it looked like he was contemplating using whatever alchemy that array did. “We’ll scare her where we need her to go.”

Breda did not look reassured by that statement, “If you do that…you know she’s just gonna hate you for it, right?”

“She’ll get over it.”

It took every ounce of willpower to ignore the impulse to bolt, then and there. The dump area had multiple exits, but for the most part had a fence so that waste did not spill over into neighboring properties. Normally more than one entrance was perfect, because it allowed several escape routes aside from the primary one; it was ideal for escaping humans who thought it might be funny to torment strays and did not care about walking through filth. If these people had dragged a vet, though, into helping them catch the dogs inside, it would not surprise Mill if they had gotten special permission to block most of them except whatever exits they had people at.

The fence of the dump was actually proper brick walls, and they were low enough that if she got a running start, Mill might feasibly manage to get over them, but she knew that was not an option. If she were completely healthy, perhaps, but she had spent several days having even less food than usual. The same issue ruled out simply running around the dump until her pursuers got tired. In normal circumstances, she would win, but she was going to get tired before the humans, realistically, after a few hours, and the alchemist did not seem patient enough to wait before using his glove.

So she remained in place and tried to look like she was not internally panicking.

Breda passed a can opener to Havoc, and shifted his backpack to where it would no longer fall off his frame. He proceeded to hold the dog-catching pole more like some sort of weapon to fend her off, than how someone trying to get the loop over her head might. The smoker, meanwhile, whistled to get her attention while the Lieutenant Colonel, grimacing, tugged on his returned glove. It would have been a lot funnier, were it not for the fact that it meant this time, he was actively trying to capture her, not just watching everyone else attempt to do so and fail.

“Hey, Karma, it’s food, you want some?” Perhaps because she had accepted it from him before, he thought she would do it again, although it was very clear that context mattered.

 _I don’t have a choice, do I?_ Maybe if she was not starving to death, she could plan out a better way to escape, or she would have the physical ability to outmaneuver them and get away, but she was too weak and never expected such a heavy, serious effort. The moment someone drew blood they would realize it was not normal, they would find out how it did not match any preexisting canine, and if they went further they would find subtle abnormalities in her skeleton, her muscles. Things the average person would miss, but an expert would find impossible to ignore.

Her eyes flicked over to Breda, and then the Lieutenant Colonel, and she backed away warily, a low growl rumbling in her throat, the whites of her eyes showing.

While Mill was not convinced, the other dogs were; at least Boon and Leo were. Lux, by comparison, would not approach food unless people were standing a good few meters away. While the two male members of her pack went up and stared at the can expectantly as Havoc opened it, the chimera focused on the people _not_ holding the food, the ones who would try to grab her. She saw no way of getting out of this, and knew that she did not have much hope of removing the dog-catching loop if it got around her neck. She had more dexterity than a dog did, enough that if she worked at it, she would probably be pretty decent at grabbing and moving things, but the loop was probably strong wire, simply coated with something soft to avoid cutting into skin. It would tighten up enough that she would not manage to get it over her head, and she did not think chimera claws could cut anything sturdier than iron.

“She’s not going for it, Havoc.” Breda pointed out, uneasy with the dogs having come closer.

Mill came to a conclusion, then, when the man tried to get her attention again.

Her only means of getting away that seemed feasible was to let herself get caught, and hope they thought she would not be intelligent enough to get out of a travel crate.

She knew what her prison would be like. A plastic dome one would be too small for something her size, so they would have a big box made from wires with a plastic floor. Those boxes depended a lot on the dog not being clever enough to recognize that the cage was designed cheaply and weighed little. The wires could probably be bent with a bit of effort from a larger dog. She might even be able to simply open it from the inside, based on the type of latch. Mill would have to tolerate being transported in a van somewhere, but if they thought they could avoid sedating her, she would probably have a chance to bolt once they went to get her out. Sedatives were a last resort, and a veterinarian would act accordingly.

She could probably open doors, too. Latches, at the very least would be easy. She would figure out a round knob. Perhaps both paws.

She just…hated what she was about to do, but her best option was to save energy, look compliant, and make her move when they did not expect it.

When Havoc set the food down on the ground, Mill let the other dogs eat, before she went for her own, not missing the pleased way people looked at her from the edges of her vision. _Wait and see_ , she thought _, I’m not finished when you think I am_. She saw the plastic-coated loop and felt it slide over her head and tighten, and was amazed that it did not trigger worse memories— _don’t think about it, focus on not getting sedated_ —that would definitely make her panic, if this did not. Her last memory was…

The tug on the lead pulled her out of her thoughts, and she did not hesitate to bare her teeth and growl, this time. It was not tight enough to choke her unless she yanked on it very hard, but that did not stop her from immediately trying to back away, almost on impulse. It was enough to make Breda, who was going pale under her glare, stumble before remembering he was the person holding the thing, and it would give him control of her head, at the very least. “I-I got her! Havoc, help!” He shouted, half-panicked.

She might as well resist on some level. She was _Karma_ , right? She did not expect to get angry, but she knew that was the precise emotion she was feeling. She was angry at this entire situation. Mill had done absolutely nothing to deserve the things she was being put through. Part of her wanted to scream every profanity she knew but never used in honor of her mother, to tell these people how _wrong_ it was, but she would exhaust every option before she used her words. Human speech was a luxury, now, not something she could enjoy freely.

While Breda tried to get her under control and Havoc moved to help him, the other dogs scattering in a panic, Mill put a paw over the pole further from her head and pushed downward, successfully wrenching it from Breda’s grip, though there was one other person who had it, and Breda re-claimed his own hold rather quickly. She barked and snarled, fighting them for several minutes before she realized their grip on the pole was stable. She stopped, then, and looked at her captors with an expression that seemed almost murderous.

“If looks could kill…” Havoc murmured.

To punctuate that statement, she let out a puff of air that whistled between her teeth, sounding more like a hiss, than anything else. Although she was entirely composed of mammals, it was deep, eerie, and almost reptilian. It was not a normal canine sound, but something far more ominous. She caught a glimpse of anxiety, the intense sort that prey experienced when a predator was staring it down. They thought they had captured a dog of an unidentifiable breed, but what they had restrained only by a loop around her neck was a chimera. A chimera that was part _bear_ , and fully capable of killing if she wanted to.

The Lieutenant Colonel took over before she could intimidate the men any further, “Come on, let’s get her into the truck before she gets away.”

They began tripping over piles of rubbish as they began slowly, painstakingly taking her out of the dump, made no easier by regular attempts at struggling that became increasingly half-hearted, not that they would know. Mill needed to save her energy and bide her time until they had a false sense of security. Reaching the main entrance of the dump, she saw two vehicles, one a van with a ramp that had seemingly been transmuted alchemically behind it, leading up to a wire cage. She hoped the ramp was made prior by the Lieutenant Colonel. Things would get complicated very quickly if she had to deal with more than one alchemist. He might be a State Alchemist, but she was not sure because she never paid attention to such things before.

Her creeping suspicions were usually accurate, but contemplating exactly _which_ State Alchemist the Lieutenant Colonel was genuinely scared her, because she did not know his name, but she had been studying his glove for a long time, and it screamed _fire._

She was forced up the ramp and into the crate, and the loop was hurriedly removed from her neck while people closed the cage door and latched it, narrowly avoiding having their fingers crushed when she slammed against the bars with a snarl. Mill did not exactly bark then. It was a cross between a howl and a roar, an enraged protest without words. Now that he was no longer having to actually help restrain her, Breda looked genuinely terrified by the sound.

Havoc wiped sweat from his brow with a grimace, while the people who had not been present initially gathered around. All the men from before, with the addition of the female officer, even. “Well,” the smoker took a moment to remove his cigarette and tap off a bunch of ashes, “We caught your dinosaur, Lieutenant Colonel.”

Fuery laughed, but it sounded uneasy, “Okay…she’s mad. Really mad.”

 _Just quit talking and close the door so I can escape, already_.

There was an older woman with hair that was pure white, frowning, “Since we got her in the crate, I’m not going to sedate her, but we’ll probably have to find a muzzle for her once we get to the clinic.” Using tranquilizers was never considered to be completely safe, even when proper precautions were taken. Knocking dogs out for anything always ran the risk of them never waking up, and the vet would be wary of using sedatives if she could avoid it.

The Lieutenant Colonel gave her a smile, “Thanks for helping us out, she’s pretty wary of people. I honestly thought she wouldn’t let us get the loop around her neck.”

She shrugged, “If an animal is hungry enough, it’ll take more risk for food. Just keep in mind it doesn’t matter if she’s your pet or not, she’s not going to trust you right away. I don’t think she’s going to bite you, but she’ll probably bolt if she’s given an opportunity, so be careful when you’re opening doors. Hopefully she doesn’t have anything too wrong with her.”

The door to the van was shut, and Mill was left alone in the trunk, while the people kept talking outside. She pawed at the bars and rattled them, just to make sure everyone listening knew she was still fighting against being confined. When she actually tried to make her escape she would wait for when the vehicle was moving. The driver and possible passenger would have to ignore whatever she was doing, and if they thought the struggling was fruitless, they would not notice when she was undoing latches.

She just needed the right moment.

Getting out of the crate was…easier than Mill expected it to be. The type of latch the wire prison used was one that was lifted up by a handle and slid to the side, two on the door. Her claws were sufficiently long enough to act as fingers, and it was a simple matter of unlocking it from the inside and stepping out. For the sake of confusing the humans with her escape, she closed the door back and redid them. This way, the cage showed no visible signs of how she had gotten out. As tempted as she was to destroy the thing, it was ultimately better to avoid doing so, because if they got a replacement, it might be one that was reinforced far better that she could not get out of. There was no guarantee an immediate escape plan would work, she might as well plan for it in advance.

She needed to get out of East City.

The drive was shorter than she thought it would be.

“Alright, you got the pole?” Roy watched as a group of veterinary technicians and assistants were briefed on handling Karma before they opened the doors of the van and put the animal on-guard. The drive in the van had started with a great deal of rattling from their unwilling passenger, before it had gone quiet. He had assumed that the animal had given up, but Hawkeye, who had volunteered to drive, found it suspicious. Karma had fought very hard to get away and get out once she was caught, and it was strange that partway through the drive, she had gone so silent they could almost forget she was there.

“Do you intend to rename her, sir?” She asked, as the car with the rest of their team pulled into the lot. Breda would be dragged into the mess by association; the only reason he had volunteered to help catch the dog was because she had saved his life. Phobias aside, he understood that having a stable food supply and shelter would ultimately be better for his canine rescuer. The rest did not want to miss out when they had been aiming to get Roy to adopt the dog from the beginning. Hawkeye had seemingly not cared, until actually witnessing Karma in action.

“I think Karma’s a pretty good name, and she’s practically built it for herself. I kind of like the concept of having a local legend living under my roof.” It was a bit of an ego-trip for Roy to say he was going to be the proud owner of a dog that had gained some level of fame as a stray, and it took away from that to change the name people had given her. Furthermore, he also did not want Hawkeye to help him by suggesting names. She was a skilled shot and an excellent subordinate, but he had known her ever since he was a mere alchemist’s apprentice. He knew, because they had kept chickens at his teacher’s old place, that she was particularly awful at naming things.

Nobody expected the dog to be out of the crate when the van’s doors were opened.

“Quick! Quick! She’s going to the left!” One of the vet workers shouted, trying to move over in hopes that the dog would try to avoid him, while the person with the loop attempted to take advantage of the humans corralling her. The dog ignored everyone except the person with the lead, and almost knocked a man over to get away from the semicircle that had been gathered around the vehicle.

“How did she even get out?!” Breda yelped, audible even across the parking lot.

“Someone, cut her off!”

Roy…honestly did not want to go so far, but it would be over if they could just get her into the building, or get the loop on her neck. “Everyone stand clear!” He was quick to get the glove onto his hand, and rubbed his fingers together, keeping the concentration of oxygen and fuel low as a distinctive snapping noise warned of what would come next. People knew what the warning meant and wisely cleared a path.

The dog was cut off before she could escape the parking lot by a flash of fire, weak, rather than explosive. The time Roy bought using his alchemy was just enough that a tech was able to get the loop around her neck, but Karma did not even fight. She sat down, tail curled tightly against her form, shoulders hunched and head lowered, visibly trembling. Anything sudden would scare an animal that was already skittish, but the dog’s reaction suggested that she already knew what fire was. That was a bad sign. There was no telling what a street dog like Karma had seen. He knew some of the strays had been abused.

“Let’s hurry up and get her inside,” The person handling Karma gave an experimental tug on the pole he was using to restrain her, but instead of following, the dog directed her attention, right at Roy.

He had the eerie feeling she was condemning him with her eyes, like she knew he was the one who had sent the fire her way. That was what he had thought from the beginning, that she had recognized his array and that his glove was a threat. She had returned his weapon, and he had used it against her.

Roy could see the betrayal, and resigned, helpless anger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Mill will probably start speaking human words! And then things will get very interesting. I hope everyone had fun with the stray dog antics!
> 
> SCRIPT:
> 
> Lab Tech 1: Uh, hey, guys...that dog...Karma is roaming the halls.
> 
> Lab Tech 2: What? How'd she get out?
> 
> Lab Tech 3: First the kennel and now this. She's an escape artist!


	6. A Creature Within A Structure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Medical practice is filled with moral ambiguity. It becomes apparent, at times, in the most horrific of ways.
> 
> *Please read the notes for possible trigger warnings*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a veterinarian, so some of what I write might be inaccurate, but I tried to do my homework a bit for this, so anyone who works with animals or knows this stuff, please have mercy on me. 
> 
> The mature rating for this story does apply, here. While exams for dogs are considered humane, and are ultimately done to benefit an animal, and there are even exams that humans undergo for medical reasons that are probably equally unpleasant, I want to discuss how such things would be genuinely traumatizing if they were done to you by force and you felt like you could not verbally protest. In my honest opinion, even when a doctor is given outright consent to carry out a procedure, it can still leave a person feeling violated. Mill is not subjected to any serious pain or injury, but the lack of consent, here, specifically, is what makes a routine medical exam horrible.
> 
> I do not depict what happens, but it is discussed, and it's uncomfortably close to something resembling a form of sexual assault in my mind, hence why I feel the need to warn you. Keep in mind that Mill is desperate to escape from the humans around her, and the people in the vet's office are determined not to let her escape. They will use multiple people to heavily restrain her, and because speech is her final resort, a high number of people being physically present is a huge deterrent to speaking.
> 
> Hence, bad things happen. I do not think that the veterinary workers are in the wrong, because they are trying to help Mill and look after her health. They think she is a frightened stray dog, and do not know she is human. It ends badly because of Mill's own psychological processes, but I also do not blame Mill, either, for how she reacted, because she has a justifiable reason to be afraid. Preventing people from thinking she is anything more than a stray dog is one of the best ways to remain safe, and that includes minimizing people who find out her secret, in the circumstance that she can no longer keep it.
> 
> A person's defense mechanisms, after all, do not always work out perfectly or seem rational.
> 
> You have been warned.

Roy and his staff found themselves being forced to keep their distance while Dr. Erdman and her group of assistants tried to work with Karma. The dog had cowered at the sight of his flames and seemed wary, but as soon as people brought her through the front doors of the veterinary clinic, she began fighting again. Although she did not bite anyone, trying to handle her quickly became dangerous, the dog no longer seeing an escape route. She kicked out with her hind legs part-way through the building’s lobby and nearly caught one worker in the stomach, leaving a long slash down the front of his medical scrubs. His uniform was ruined, but backing away just in time thankfully prevented him from receiving what would have been a nasty injury. The dog’s claws were _sharp,_ and they were so filthy that they would definitely cause an infection if she created an open wound.

After that, people had grabbed thick blankets that were apparently used for stray cats, and tossed them over the animal, in an effort to restrict her movement while reducing the risk of bodily harm for both parties. They tried to pick her up as a team, but were unable to properly stop her struggling enough to do so, and they were not able to hold her still enough for the vet to inject her with sedative. Attempting to do so had elicited a loud shriek from the dog that hurt Roy’s heart almost as much as it did his ears, because of how legitimately terrified it sounded. The dog had wrestled a limb free and swatted at Dr. Erdman hard enough with her paw that the syringe had been forcibly torn from her grip. The older woman had hissed in pain, before insisting she was fine. It was again remarkable that the claws did not draw blood.

In spite of the sheer difficulty of just getting Karma into a back room, an effort requiring every worker in the building, or of the fact that she had hurt an assistant and almost sprained the veterinarian’s wrist, nobody seemed to hold the animal’s behaviors against her. Even while she produced noises that Roy had honestly never heard from a dog before, ranging from reptilian-sounding hisses to unearthly howls and roars, the doctor and assistants all spoke hushed reassurances. Polished concrete floors were smeared with mud and the high-gloss finish was left with visible scratches; a metal display rack meant to show off expensive treats and diets was several bags lighter after its contents were knocked down. The lobby would be a mess, but there was no anger or outrage.

Karma was fighting for her life, and although the humans had no harmful intent, there was no way they could easily convey that to the dog. The creature was frightened, body shaking between periods of movement, the whites of her eyes showing as her gaze darted around the room, desperate for a way out. Any available surface that might give her purchase, she dug her claws into it, from the reception desk to the walls of the archway that led into a wide hallway. She left holes in the drywall and decorative wooden panels. Roy internally cringed, knowing he would have to pay for the damages.

“Okay, sweetie, it’s okay—guys, bring her to the left, we need to get her cleaned up before we can do anything.” One female assistant trying to help with controlling Karma’s head with the pole gave directions, helping to counteract when the dog put them on a collision course with some obstacle. Slowly, painfully, they guided her away. Roy wondered how they would manage to bathe Karma when she was so dangerous already that they had to use blankets for protection. How would they get her into a tub?

The sounds of terror and distress faded down the hall, ending with the distant click of a door, and Roy and his people were left sitting in the lobby, feeling as if a dark cloud were looming over them. Havoc fidgeted for a while, before he started picking up the bags of dog food and treats that had been knocked over that were not torn open. He clumsily rearranged them on the shelves where they belonged. Breda uneasily inspected a hole that Karma had punched into the side of the archway. Fuery coaxed over the resident cat that lived in the clinic, who only seemed comfortable emerging now that the dog was absent, the creature unusually social for a feline. It eagerly jumped into his lap and purred as he ran his hands through short ginger fur.

After a long, tense silence, Roy sighed, “I guess I’ll be paying for more than just the vet bills.”

“That was hard to watch,” Falman commented, “I did think she had given up after you used your alchemy, Lieutenant Colonel, sir.” Acting like a soldier, even off the clock, never dropping his formal speech. It did not seem to matter how many times he was told to lighten up, habits were difficult to unlearn. A second cat, a calico, began nuzzling its head under the Warrant Officer’s hand, demanding attention.

“Well, we’ve gotten her into the building, so I don’t think she’s going to get away anymore. I just hope she doesn’t hurt someone.”

Havoc finished cleaning up the mess to the best of his ability and walked over, “I don’t envy you, chief. You’re going to have a fun time winning her over.”

“Speaking of, how’s work with Lucy going?”

“Still doesn’t let me pet her, but she’ll approach me on her own and sit next to me on the sofa. She kind of follows me around my apartment at a distance. I think someone must have really hurt her. When a neighbor dropped by she freaked out because he was wearing a hat.”

“Well, you’re making progress, so that’s good. Now if only you’d ease up on the smoking.”

“Not a chance.”

A part of Roy wondered why his team had not left, yet, but he chose not to question it, when they were keeping him company in the building lobby. Capturing Karma had been something that people had been trying to do for a long time, and they probably wanted to be present for every moment of it.

About an hour passed, during which Breda excused himself and went home, before Dr. Erdman emerged into the lobby. She looked at him, a concerned expression on her face, “Lieutenant Colonel Mustang? We’ve gotten Karma all cleaned up and we’ve brought her into one of our examination rooms. We were able to take blood and fecal samples, and we gave her a mild sedative to help with that, but…we’ve discovered something unusual…and…honestly I don’t know how to explain it. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

He immediately felt worried, at that, “Does she have something wrong with her?” He asked.

“Well…no…she doesn’t have any worms, and the bath should have gotten rid of any fleas that she might have had on her when we brought her in. She’s actually surprisingly healthy, considering where you found her, and apart from being underweight…but…” She seemed at a loss for words, “We discovered some…abnormalities…” She sighed and waved him on, “Just…come with me.”

Havoc patted him on the back, something he would normally never do, though this situation seemed to warrant it, “Well, we’ll be waiting for you when you get back out here, Lieutenant Colonel. Hopefully it’s nothing too bad.”

Mill had resigned herself to whatever bad things happened during examinations, feeling too tired physically to keep fighting large groups of humans, and unable to fend off the doctor with her syringe, being given sedatives even though that was the one thing she never wanted. She was already exhausted from hunger, but the fear and stress was just as draining, and the drug made her feel sluggish. Although she actually liked being clean, and deep down, appreciated having gotten her first bath in many months, she felt cold, having been touched by so many strangers. The fecal test had been even worse, and she only took a small amount of comfort in knowing that it was done for clinical reasons. Through the slight haze of the tranquilizer, she distantly knew she wanted to hurt someone, but it was muted, everything less intense than it should have been. She could still move around and was not going to fall unconscious, she had determined, but she was also not drugged sufficiently to leave her in a twilight state. She was conscious of everything happening around her.

At some point, her body had simply gone numb, and distantly, she was aware that it was an often-ignored aspect of her innate survival mechanisms—or perhaps it was a result of whatever was in that syringe. She could neither fight nor flee, so she froze instead. At some point, it would wear off, and she would probably have nightmares about this for a very long time, assuming people did not try to kill her out of some misguided attempt at mercy. She might experience vicious, explosive anger, or just fall apart. Mill had no idea, but it was because of this detached, somewhat emotionless state, that she was able to logically evaluate what was happening. She had no idea if understanding what was happening would fix whatever damage was surely being done to her mental state. This was all wrong. It was all so horribly, terribly wrong, but the drug numbed it out, and she was waiting to see it all come crashing down.

She felt disgusting, _wrong_ , and knowing that it was not her fault, _logically_ , did not change the sense of guilt she felt over having let all of these things happen to her. She knew why it happened, why he made decisions that led to this. To minimize the number of people she had to fight, to avoid something as risky as speaking, she endured everything. It was not her fault all of these things happened to her, she was the victim, she had never asked to be made into a chimera, to be used like some lab rat. She had no idea if trying to reason with these people would save her life or not, but as long as they thought she was a normal animal in good enough health to recover from malnutrition, there was no reason for them to bring up the discussion of whether or not euthanasia was ethical.

Even so, she felt wrong, violated, and now they had her blood and they would _know._ She needed to get away. As long as she was still able to think and move, even if it was murky, she could do something about the situation. Mill could agonize over the things that had been done to her against her will later, when she was not in immediate danger.

When everyone left her alone in the examination room, probably to run strange tests on her blood and look at things under a microscope, Mill hopped down from the reinforced metal table and walked over to the window. She inspected it, wasting time, because there was no way she could fit through it. She did it more because she needed some brief moment to focus on a task that would be met with immediate success, than because of her need to escape, something to motivate her just a little. Her body felt heavy. There were two latches on the window, and they did not appear to be the sort that required both a finger and a thumb. She reached up with her paws and undid both, and with little effort, was able to slide the window open, revealing a mere screen separating the room from an alleyway outside.

It made her feel better. It was a silly, ridiculous thing, but it did.

The door, now.

The clinic’s doors were handles, rather than rounded knobs. She could not recall hearing the click of a lock, which would guarantee an inability to escape without alerting someone, but perhaps wasting a few seconds on the window was for the best, because it gave people a chance to think she was trapped and walk away. If she had tried to escape immediately, they would probably still be in a position to go after her. Now, the veterinary workers were likely all in separate rooms of the building, and would be far more oblivious to a dog looking for an exit—not the front entrance, as easy as it would be to retrace her steps there. The alchemist and his subordinates were probably there. There had to be a back entrance to the building, a fire exit, perhaps. She needed to get out through there.

Mill pushed down the handle and opened the door slightly, pulling it into the room and peeking around it to see if anyone was in the hall. When she found it empty, she slipped through, and made a beeline in the opposite direction of where she had come previously. She did not sprint or run, but she kept a brisk pace, trying to avoid her claws clicking on the floor loud enough to alert someone. A stroke of luck, whatever the doors in this building were made from, they tended to stay open however someone left them, rather than pull shut on their own. There was no loud, echoing click in the silence of the clinic to indicate that someone had left the examination room.

When Dr. Erdman led Roy to the examination room where Karma had been left, they were greeted by a door that was open wide, enough that the dog could easily have walked through it. Looking into the room revealed an open window, and no animal in sight. “…We need to search the building.” She sounded anxious.

“She got loose?”

“We’ve been saving for some time to get heavier doors, or something with round knobs. It’s only ever happened once in the past, but some dogs are escape artists and can open doors with this sort of handle. Even though we sedated her, Karma still got out. It’ll slow her down, so we just have to find her and-”

“-Way ahead of you, Doc,” A young man emerged from around the corner of the hallway, pulling Karma with a dog-catching pole. “You’re lucky I was taking stock, she was all the way by the back entrance. A moment later and she’d be gone!” The aide’s frame was reedy, and under normal circumstances it was unlikely that he would have managed to catch a dog so large, but it was obvious that she was still drugged. Her steps were heavy and seemed less coordinated, and her overall movement was sluggish. When she saw Roy and Dr. Erdman, she sat down and refused to move, coughing when the man tugged a little too hard.

“Well, that’s a disaster averted,” The vet seemed relieved, and walked over to get behind the dog, “I’m trusting you to keep control of her head, Carter, don’t let her bite me. Let’s get her back into the examination room.” She tried to push Karma to keep walking, “Come on, _move_ , girl.”

Not taking kindly to the order, Karma attempted to swing her head around, only to be stopped by the loop around her neck. She made an unnerving hissing noise. Roy had no idea if he should go over and help or not, “Do you want me to do anything?” He asked.

“If you’d just get the door, that’d be great.” Dr. Erdman shoved against the dog without much success.

Doing as he was told, Roy was able to take in how drastically different Karma looked, without the thick layer of grime on her fur. She was bright silver, as he had thought, and her coat seemed to grow in waves; it was dull from malnutrition, but if she were in better health, it would probably look brilliant, like silk. There was a distinctly darker cape-like set of markings that went over her upper back, near her chest, and over her head, making it seem as if she were wearing a hooded cloak. She looked almost like a wolf, because of it. Her frame, though, was terribly thin, the ribs visible, and hips jutting out sharply.

It was a slow process, but eventually, they got the dog to walk, very reluctantly, back into the examination room, and the aide, Carter, regarded Karma, “Okay, so, we can take the loop off, as long as someone is blocking the door I don’t think she’ll try to run again…at least I hope she doesn’t. Dr. Erdman, what do you want me to do now?”

“You can go back to taking stock. We need to know what we’re low on before I place an order for the medications, otherwise we’ll be dealing with another week-long shortage.”

“Oh, well, nobody wants that.” He loosened the loop and Karma practically tore it away from it with a growl. “Good luck, Dr. Erdman.” He bid everyone farewell and slipped back out of the room, leaving Roy with the veterinarian and the dog that seemed increasingly like she was going to be a challenge to deal with. People in a veterinary clinic handled an enormous number of animals every day that they were in business, and plenty of dogs and cats knew when they saw the building that they were going to be poked with needles or subjected to some other unpleasant experience. If Karma was giving them this much trouble, Roy was wondering how he was supposed to work with her, when he did not keep a pet, previously.

“Now, you stay right there, Karma,” Dr. Erdman ordered, before focusing back on Roy. “Well, I think that’s enough chaos for the morning.” Roy honestly thought the amount of excitement was enough to rival a full week.

“You said you found something unusual?” Roy asked. Did Karma stiffen, at that? He must be imagining it.

“Well, it’s regarding what we found during the process of grooming, as well as the results for her tests. Like I was saying earlier, she’s in surprisingly good health, apart from her weight. No evidence of internal parasites or illness, but…” She dared to place a hand on Karma’s back, “Anatomically, she’s unusual. See this spot between her shoulders? The muscle shouldn’t be this prominent, but it’s very large. That was the first thing we noticed, but because it’s only unusual due to its size, we didn’t think too much of it. If she does a lot of digging, that might explain why it’s developed like this.”

She picked up Karma’s paw, and earned a sour look when she began fiddling with the little toe on it that did not touch the ground, “Her front paws are what we found truly unusual. Firstly, her claws are naturally long like this, they _weren’t_ overgrown. If a dog’s claws are too long, then the nails will touch the ground or turn sideways. Karma’s nails don’t do that unless she’s running and really digging into a surface.” She angled her leg so that Roy could see her bending the toe she was fiddling with, “The real bizarre thing is this dewclaw, here. The pad is turned slightly inwards, and at first I thought it was loose, in which case we would recommend surgically removing it because it can catch on things and cause injury but…no, Karma actually has a _joint_ here, and full use of it. Her dewclaw is like a proper thumb, as small as it is, and we saw her grab things several times using it.”

“I take it that a joint is unusual?” Roy asked. The dog huffed, and bared her teeth at the vet.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, you’re fine, sweetie.” Dr. Erdman spoke to the animal, before returning to focus back on the Lieutenant Colonel. “Well, normally the joints in the bones of the dewclaw are just part of the limb. Dogs are toe-walkers, and this whole part here,” She indicated the dog’s wrist, and ran her finger down to just above the paw, “Is all of the bones you would see in the equivalent of a human palm. The dewclaw’s bones would be hidden in here, effectively fixed, but for Karma, they protrude, while still appearing superficially normal. The only reason I would have spotted this is because of my line of work.” She let the animal remove her paw from her grip. “It’s an extremely unusual mutation for a dog to have, and even more unusual in that it functions perfectly, rather than impairing her.”

She frowned, “The real problem, though, is the blood tests, and it’s strange enough that honestly, Lieutenant Colonel, I don’t know if we’re dealing with a domestic dog at all. I’m half-convinced, as much like a dog as she appears, and in spite of her being found with feral dogs, that she’s some sort of escaped exotic.”

“Explain,” He was unsure of how trying to catch a stray dog would lead to something like this, and it felt almost surreal, having someone tell him that his new dog might not be a dog at all.

“Well…I went to check her blood type, and…her blood reacts to every single test. Our clinic can perform tests for all thirteen known canine blood types, instead of just a small few. At first I thought she was negative for all of the antigens, but the results I found were more reminiscent of the time someone gave me cat’s blood for a test by mistake. It’s as if she doesn’t fall within the canine blood typing system at all.” She took a deep breath to compose herself, “Lieutenant Colonel Mustang, I don’t think she’s a dog. Just…there’s too many…” She drifted off.

There was a long silence during when nobody said anything. Roy was quietly contemplating Dr. Erdman’s words, trying to figure out what this entailed. “What do you think she might be, then?” He finally asked.

“I don’t know…” She slowly shook her head.

They lapsed into silence.

And then a third voice spoke.

“I do.”

Dr. Erdman jumped, and nearly backed into the wall, staring at Karma, clutching at her chest, perhaps from the shock of being startled so badly. “…W-what…?”

Roy’s own thoughts froze, and he could only stare, as Karma opened her mouth and _spoke_. “Sorry for scaring you.” The voice was horrific and warped, only vaguely recognizable as feminine, because of how deep and rumbling it was. There was a growling quality to it that a human might never successfully achieve on their own. There was an indecipherable accent to it, as if the original language spoken was not human, and just the faintest, almost nonexistent country accent, as if from a person who had developed it somewhere, and then had been gone for many years.

Although the words were an apology, it did not sound sincere. It sounded bitter, _angry_.

“You’re a _chimera_ ,” Roy realized, “A talking chimera.” He was amazed. There was only one recorded case of such a creature being made, and that was by Shou Tucker, the Sewing-Life Alchemist. His talking chimera was what had earned him his state certification, and nobody else had produced an example so advanced. Even so, it made Roy wary. Tucker’s chimera had hardly spoken at all, declaring that it wished to die, and had proceeded to refuse food, dying from starvation. Karma had been living on the streets for months, rather than wherever she had come from. She should have been in a laboratory, or wherever the alchemist who created her lived.

“A _human_ , chimera,” Karma countered, flatly, “Do I seem like a normal animal to you? I’m a person, the same as you. An alchemist did this to me, he plucked a human being off the streets and turned her into his lab rat. I’m the end result.”

Dr. Erdman’s hands went to cover her mouth, and her eyes were wide with horror, “Oh my goodness…I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Whether she was speaking out of fear, or out of the realization that she had hurt a human being, Roy was uncertain, but she kept apologizing, over and over, until it became almost incoherent. He was struggling to deal with his own pit of nausea, but as a soldier, he knew better than to let himself fall apart over this. He had seen a boy with his limbs torn off, and a child whose soul was bound to a suit of armor, only a little while ago. Alchemy _was_ capable of something like this.

It made him sick, to think about the fact that someone had done this.

“If you were a person, why didn’t you say something sooner?” He demanded, trying to force the strength of a command into his voice and keep it from shaking. He immediately wanted to slap himself after the words left his mouth. He knew why. The answer was obvious.

Karma growled, “I spent what felt like an eternity in one cage, I’m not going back into another. I’m not going to go talk to some random person who’s gonna shoot me, or euthanize me, thinking in their own head that it’s the right thing to do when I wanna live.” Her words came through gritted teeth. “I tried to run away, ‘cause you didn’t know, and it wasn’t good for me to be here, but it doesn’t look like I’ve got a better option anymore.”

There was a long silence as those words sank in, before Karma spoke again, “Now what are you gonna do to me?” She tried to look vicious, but Roy knew from all of her past behaviors that the strength and anger was a façade. She was scared for her life, of _him_. She was forcing him to state how he would handle the information. She was aware of how little power she actually possessed in this situation. Roy normally hated being given orders, having people make demands of him, but he also understood why the chimera was acting this way…it was horrible. She had been dragged around and caged like an animal, she had been forcibly sedated against her will, had her blood drawn and was probed without consent. She was bathed by strangers, and Roy had no idea how old Karma was, except that she was a human, and female, and…

He felt his stomach twist painfully.

They had been doing everything to a person, and she had been aware for all of it. The sedative had simply made it where she would not fight back as hard, but even then she had still tried to escape.

Karma being human explained a lot of things. Her recognition of the array on his glove as a threat—of course it had been a threat, it was _alchemy_ —and her subsequent snatching of it. Her knowledge of how to interact with things that should have been difficult or impossible for animals to achieve. She had opened dumpsters to find food; eating trash, because she had nothing else. For her, humans were an enemy, a threat to her very safety, and at the same time, her best shot at survival. She depended on what people threw away, but being taken in by a loving home, if it had been any normal civilian or even most soldiers, might have sealed her fate.

Yet she had still dared to approach him and his people, had saved Breda’s life, even if it entailed considerable risk. She knew he was probably a threat, and although he did not know why she had kept his glove, she had returned it, as filthy as it now was. She had given it back, even if it meant he might use it against her. She had tried, desperately, not to hurt people when she was caught, until she felt like she was running out of options.

He made his decision quicker than he thought he would. An enormous, life-changing decision.

He looked at Dr. Erdman, who had gone ghostly pale, “Dr. Erdman, can you keep quiet about this?” Roy asked. “I understand this is a lot to ask of you, but…”

She gave a slight laugh that sounded hysterical, the veterinarian holding her head in one hand, looking as if she were on the verge of tears. “…This… _this_ is something that alchemy did…?” She took in a deep, shaking breath, trembling so badly that she looked like she might fall apart. She looked at Karma, “I thought you were a dog…I…I _traumatized_ you…you can’t tell me that I didn’t…” She was dwelling on the things she had just done as a part of regular medical care for a dog. They should never have been done to a human being without permission, but it was horrible, because Dr. Erdman had truly thought she was helping her. It had been unintentional harm.

Karma sighed deeply, seeming to contemplate what to say, before speaking, “…I hate being sedated, and I don’t want you touching me, but I know it isn’t your fault. I’m sorry, because I’m gonna hold it against you, and you don’t deserve that. I’m sorry because you feel guilty, and you shouldn’t have to.” She took a deep breath, “Just answer the soldier’s question. Unless you people plan on letting me go back onto the streets, I wanna know what’s gonna happen to me.”

The vet took a few breaths to compose herself, “…I can keep it a secret…” It would be too much to expect someone to immediately be in a forgiving mood, after being put through what Karma had just endured. It seemed like the chimera was trying not to hold it against Dr. Erdman, and although it would be understandable, perhaps even accepted, if she never wanted to forgive the veterinarian, she indicated that she at least wanted to. Emotionally, though, she would associate the woman with danger and being handled in a way she found unpleasant, against her will. Roy wondered if Karma’s speech was always this eloquent; he took it as a sign that her sedative was wearing off.

“Good,” Roy turned to Karma, “You’re coming with me.”

“Where?”

“My place. You aren’t going back on the streets, and we’re not turning you into the military either. I can’t, in good conscience, put you back into a situation where you’ll starve to death or die from exposure. With me you’ll have a roof over your head, and you won’t have to worry about food, either.”

“I’m not your _pet.”_ Her posture was tense and guarded, radiating distrust. Even if Roy found her expressions much harder to read than a human’s, it was obvious what her misgivings were about going along with what he intended to do. He was an alchemist, and if Karma was like most of the population in Amestris, then her first true interaction with someone who knew alchemy was the person who had transmuted her. Amongst people who studied alchemy, chimera research, even what was considered acceptable legally, was still looked at by many with distain as pointless and unnecessarily cruel towards animals. A person who had never known alchemists, however, would have no way of knowing this.

Roy hardly deserved to be looked at as if he were a good person. He had slaughtered countless men, women, and children who had never done anything wrong using his alchemy.

He never wanted to hurt another innocent person ever again, and he would never do something as horrible as what Karma was afraid of. Even for a murderer like him, it was unthinkable.

He looked her in the eye, ignoring the warning voice in the back of his head that was comparing her to a wild animal that might attack if he did so. “No, you’re a person who’s had a lot of bad luck and I don’t think you did anything to deserve it. It isn’t fair, and I’m sorry, but you’ll have to pretend. It’s the best I can offer. You’ll have food and shelter, and I take care of my people. I won’t let anyone take you away to a lab. You said you wanted to live, and I’ll respect that. I have people that I might tell about you, but I promise, they’re trustworthy.”

Karma visibly thought this over, before a growl caught in her throat, “Fine…but if you’re lying to me…”

“I _promise_ ,” He repeated.

The chimera gave him a hard look, “I’ll go along with it.” Her tone was not happy, in spite of her acceptance. It was a response to his sincerity, but Roy had seen this sort of reaction from people before. Karma, whoever she really was, was not a person who liked promises. She was someone who would prize a person’s actions far more than their words, and she was not inclined to truly believe Roy’s promises until he carried them out. It was the reaction of a person who had been given people’s word in the past, only to be let down.

She did not trust him.

He would have to prove himself worthy of that trust, because no matter what, even though he was agreeing to take a stranger into his home on a whim, at the end of the day, he was not the person who was hurt and in need of protection. Karma was.

Dr. Erdman, who had regained some amount of composure, looked between the two of them, “I’ll have to log her blood test as inconclusive…I could put down a fake blood type for you, but…if…something happens, and you get the wrong blood…” She did not need to explain further. “I’ll still help you with medical needs. You need a doctor and you can’t go to a normal hospital…if…that means anything…” She worried her lip for a moment, “…I…don’t know what a chimera is…”

“A creature produced through alchemy, by combining two or more separate organisms together.” Roy explained, giving the textbook answer.

“That’s…a start. I might be able to work with something like that. I’ll just have to make a file somewhere outside the office. Karma…you’re part human, and clearly part dog, but I can tell you’ve got something else. If I know what animals you are, I can do research.”

The chimera took her sharp focus away from Roy to look at the veterinarian, who had finally managed to compose herself, perhaps because of how Karma had responded to her distress. Perhaps Dr. Erdman had simply concluded that it was not helpful for the situation, to keep panicking. Admittedly, he felt relieved, because there was something terrifying about what he had just decided to do, even if he felt that it was the right choice. Roy had been prepared to take a dog into his home, not a human chimera.

It was more similar to sharing his apartment with a second person, a dependent. He doubted that Karma could do most of the things a normal person could, and he was accepting responsibility for all of her needs that she herself could not look after. There was a lot of mental figuring that he had simply not done, and needed to.

He quietly listened as Karma explained what she was, so, very precise, as if she were reading a grocery list. “Six different components. One is human, the rest are as follows: three dogs of different breeds, the Kuvasz, the Aerugonian Wolfdog, and the Amestrian Wolfhound.” She listed the exact dogs. “Eastern spiny mouse, and northern brown bear.”

“…That explains the claws and the muscle…” Dr. Erdman murmured, almost under her breath. A small bit of animal information that even Roy, someone who grew up in the city, knew about, was that technically there was only one species of brown bear, and there were populations throughout all of Amestris. They were divided into subspecies, however, and the bears that were found in North Area, especially near the border to Drachma, were capable of growing far larger than average. It was likely that Karma’s immense size was due to her bear component.

Roy had just decided to open his home to a chimera who was part bear.

“I’ll look into it,” Dr. Erdman told her, before looking to Roy, “Lieutenant Colonel, there isn’t much more I can do here, except suggest you give Karma an appropriate dosage each month of preventative medicine for heartworm which also handles a few other parasites.” She looked back at the chimera, “I don’t know anything about chimera immunity, and you were clean of parasites, but I don’t know if it’s luck or not, and I want to be on the safe side. Also, it doesn’t sound like you’re composed of anything other than mammals. That means you may still be susceptible to certain viral illnesses. I would like to give you vaccines for things like rabies, at the very least. The same kind of vaccines that are given to dogs are also sometimes administered to other animals, like ferrets. It’s a purely preventative measure.”

“One condition,” Karma responded, “You don’t give it to me in my back leg. You give me an injection through my arm, and the Lieutenant Colonel stays in the room.”

Being asked to stay during injections was not something that Roy expected to be made a condition, but perhaps Karma’s anxiety towards the veterinarian was why. She had already been handled by most of the people in the clinic, and although he was guilty of intimidating her using his flame alchemy, he had never tried to hold her still while she was stuck with a needle. He might be the closest thing to a reassuring presence that she could find.

It was sad, because Roy was probably hardly any comfort, when he was a complete stranger to Karma.

“I’ll stay,” Roy responded.

“Alright, then,” Dr. Erdman fiddled with the sleeve on her white doctor’s coat. “I’ll go and fetch the vaccines from the back room, then. It’ll be three syringes. I won’t ask you to get on the cot, because you’re tall enough. Just…stay here and get comfortable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I hope you guys were able to handle that well. There won't be anything like this happening to characters again later in the story, but I truly could not see any other way for events to pan out that would have ended nicer. 
> 
> The good news, Dr. Erdman and Roy are currently the only people who know Karma is human, and both are willing to keep things a secret. Things get worse before they get better, but the outcome is...well I guess it's better than you'd think it would be, considering everything.
> 
> Now, a script. What's going on in the waiting room?
> 
> SCRIPT
> 
> (In the clinic waiting room)
> 
> Havoc, trying to flirt with a pretty worker at the front desk: So, are you a dog or a cat person? *attempts the worst handsome look ever*
> 
> Secretary: I like both dogs and cats, and I like frogs, too.
> 
> Havoc: Really? That sounds interesting.
> 
> Secretary: I have pictures, look!
> 
> *Proceeds to show Havoc photos of a glass frog, which has visible internal organs*
> 
> Havoc: How...lovely...
> 
> (In which Havoc's attempt to flirt with the secretary entails spending an entire hour talking about frogs)


	7. Adrenal Fatigue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karma gets her vaccines and is very stressed. Roy is panicking
> 
> (This chapter was accidentally posted to Patchwork Guardian, it seems when I logged in it switched me to the wrong work. An apology to anyone who was following that story and was faked-out)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually feel a little bad for Roy in this. It's not like horrible bad, but he has no idea how to be a parent and he's kind of getting struck by the weight of responsibility. I think wanting to panic might be a bit normal, since he's not exactly someone you would think is a good role model.

Being left in the examination room alone with the Lieutenant Colonel entailed an unpleasant silence that stretched on for a long period of time, but Mill was convinced that she was nowhere near as bothered as the soldier was. It began at first with the two of them staring each other down. The human was perhaps used to people wilting under his gaze, and likely assumed that the chimera would be no different, eventually bound to cave and start a conversation in his favor. Unfortunately, while most people would start talking when they felt nervous, Mill was typically the exact opposite, becoming completely unresponsive in a conversation, intent on enduring whatever happened until it was over. It was the best course of action for dealing with adults who wanted to tear into her for some reason, and it appeased the person who had transmuted her, too. As a dog, she had not used human words at all. The only reason she spoke was because she saw no other options that might keep her from being tossed into another cage or killed.

So while the Flame Alchemist (He must be, with alchemy like that. Of all the people she would run into, why this particular person?) was beginning to show minor signs of unease when his own front did not break hers, Mill kept watching him, waiting either for Dr. Erdman to return, or for him to ask the many questions she could see behind his eyes. He knew nothing about her; there was no context for her age, who she really was, or even how she had been kidnapped in the first place. She was a complete unknown, and that was something that few people handled well.

Finally, he seemed to decide that she was not going to tell him anything without being prompted. “What’s your name?” He asked. There was no introductory speech to ease her into the questioning, and his tone carried the same sort of firmness as a demand, though it was not harsh or threatening in nature. There was something almost gentle in it. Whether or not the Lieutenant Colonel could really keep her safe from harm, or if he would keep his promises, she could tell that in this moment, at least, he was sincere in his good intentions.

This man had nothing to gain from helping her, and far more to lose. For this reason, Mill felt slightly bad when she did not give him a straight answer, “Karma is fine.”

“But that’s not your name,” He seemed slightly disappointed.

“I have my reasons for not wanting to tell you, but maybe not in a doctor’s office while I’m on some sort of sedative.” The heavy, sluggish feeling, and an environment where strange hands had grabbed her and forced her still. It was all too familiar and similar to what she had already been through, once before. Beneath the drug in her system, she could feel the anxiety, a sense of danger that never left.

Mill—or Karma, now—saw him briefly contemplate arguing that he should learn her name at least, and then ultimately deciding against it, in favor of asking a different question, “How old are you?”

“Fifteen,” She saw him jolt slightly, a brief flash of horror and panic. He seemed more stricken by her age than the knowledge that a chimera that was part bear was coming to live in his home. She supposed, though, that accepting responsibility for a teenager’s welfare would weigh more heavily on his mind than if Karma were simply an adult with strange circumstances. The entailments of having a minor living in his home and assuming the status of caregiver was roughly the same as being her guardian.

Her ear twitched, and she could make out the sound of footsteps and shifting airflow indicating that someone was headed in their direction down the hallway. Airflow generally meant nothing if you were outside, but within structures, air vents would whistle through rooms and hallways, and a person passing through would disrupt it. Even as a pure human, Karma’s ears were attuned to such noises, and clearly, many months in a different environment had not caused her to lose that ability. “She’s coming back,” Her fingers unconsciously curled against the glossy concrete floor, tense.

They were regular vaccines, tested and unlikely to make her sick, and they were going to be administered under the terms that Karma had established. Even so, she felt a sick twist of anticipation. The sedative must be wearing off; either she had been given hardly anything in the syringe, or it was a weaker drug. She supposed as thin as she was, Dr. Erdman had decided that too little sedative was safer than too much.

The veterinarian reentered the room, carrying a tray with three capped syringes. “Alright, I’ve got the shots here. We’re going to make this go quick, but before I do anything, I want to know which side you want them on. If you’ve got a dominant leg—sorry, arm—we don’t want that to be the one that gets sore later.” All things considered, she adapted to having a patient that was able to communicate their needs rather quickly.

Karma wordlessly lifted up her left arm and rotated her wrist a bit, an incredibly human gesture she would have normally avoided. Dr. Erdman and the Lieutenant Colonel visibly stared at the movement, probably reflecting on all the little signs they had ignored up until she spoke that suggested that she had higher intelligence. When she returned to a sitting position on the floor, the vet took some rubbing alcohol and tried to part the fur on her upper arm near her shoulder, swiping at the skin. “Alright, try to relax, and I’ll knock these out quick.”

The chimera focused her gaze to the alley beyond the still-open window, not wanting to see the needle, or what everyone’s expressions were. “…Any questions?” She asked.

“A few. I don’t know much about chimeras, but I know what alchemy is, even if I don’t understand it. You aren’t in any pain, are you? I don’t see any indication of misaligned joints, but…” She sounded uncomfortable asking. Karma had voiced a desire to live, and that meant bringing up certain kinds of suffering, if they seemed to support euthanasia, would be particularly touchy. Dr. Erdman was not wrong in her assumptions. It took Karma a bit longer to respond than normal, and her arm jerked when the first needle went in.

“I’ve been like this for about nine months, roughly. It was eight, last time I bothered looking into a news box.” There was a slight, unpleasant tug on her fur where another needle was being readied. It was a reaction conveying surprise, but Karma did not look to see the expressions everyone was wearing. “I’d be dead if I was made wrong.” Another pinch. One needle left. “I _am_ hungry, though.” She was certain that starvation was responsible for any current physical suffering, because she did not feel unwell during times when she had a steady food supply.

“I imagine it isn’t pleasant to talk about, but what have you been eating thus far?”

“Anything that isn’t likely to poison me. Trash, sometimes dog food people left out. I’ve killed rats and pigeons for their meat.” Her claws scraped the floor, tensing slightly, “I hope you aren’t the kind of people to judge for that.” Karma’s feelings towards killing small animals for food was complex, largely because of the moral implications. She did not regret that she killed for food, and would even feel excited if she caught something, in anticipation of having something to eat; hunger was ultimately why she resorted to such measures. People in civilized society, though, were usually not in a state of starvation, and in a city like this especially, did not have to contemplate that an animal life was taken to put food on their table. They bought meat at a butcher and did not see the creature when it was alive, or watch as it was slaughtered.

“You weren’t killing for the sake of enjoyment or being deliberately cruel, so I think you’re fine. You’re lucky, though, that you didn’t catch anything.” The final needle prick, and the shots were done.

“If anyone tries to say I’m not a survivor at this point then I’m tossing them into the worst pile of rubbish I can find in the East City dump.” Dr. Erdman made a slight choking sound as she went to dispose of the used syringes in a biohazardous waste container, and Karma thought that the soldier may have reacted in a similar fashion, if her ears did not betray her. They clearly found the comment funny, and it had caught them off-guard, but because of the subject matter, they were probably not sure if it was acceptable to laugh or not. Her tail gave a single thump at their reaction.

Unfortunately, now that the shots were over, there was another issue. She turned to look at the Lieutenant Colonel, “Okay, so, what are we going to do about the audience outside? I’m not getting dragged around with the dog-catching pole again.”

“If we give things time, we can probably have it where you don’t even have to have a leash, but for now, would you be willing to accept walking with a normal one? I’ll do my best not to pull you around.” He offered, looking dissatisfied with his own solution to the problem.

“Do we even have a leash?”

Dr. Erdman volunteered the needed information, “We keep spares around the clinic, so you can use one of those. They’re just loops that go around the neck, though. It’s not a replacement for a proper lead that clips onto a collar.”

The soldier hummed thoughtfully, “That’ll work. We’ll probably have to custom-make something for you to act as a collar, in the future. Most stores don’t carry anything large enough, and you won’t want something that has a choker-type chain on it.”

Karma sighed, “let’s get this over with, I’m tired of thinking for the moment.” Trying to figure out how to escape death would make anyone feel exhausted in a relatively short period of time. The sedative did not help, nor did the constant lack of energy from not getting enough to eat.

“If it’s any consolation, you’ll have food once we get back to my apartment. Something to look forward to, right?”

“I’m not so food-motivated that I’ll magically cheer up, but I appreciate the thought.”

As composed as Roy behaved outwardly, he was mentally reeling at Karma’s age. A teenager. He had agreed to look after a _teenager,_ with special needs, no less. Making it worse, he knew that if he tried to send her to live with someone else better suited for the role of a caretaker, like Maes or his aunt, the chimera would probably hold it against him and whoever agreed to take her off his hands. With good reason, she was wary of strange people knowing her secret. If Roy breached what little trust she had given him, Karma might very well disappear, deciding that she would rather live on the streets and risk starvation than put her life in the hands of someone else. She was a minor, but for the better part of a year she had been a chimera, and it was obvious that she had been badly mistreated, if not physically, then mentally.

Roy would have to look after her, and as he took the end of bright blue lead that had been slipped around her neck, he was trying to figure out how. He had a spare guest room that he normally reserved for whenever Maes was visiting from Central, but Karma was now—his charge? His mind recoiled at the term _daughter_ —and she needed a proper bedroom, her own space. She might get left at home often due to his work, even if eventually he could bring her with him to East Command, since they never banned pets. She needed furniture that would accommodate her needs, and if she had hobbies, he needed to know what they were.

What about education? She was independent, it seemed, but he might need to look into getting textbooks from somewhere so she could properly continue it, if she wanted to. Maybe books for leisure reading, and could Karma write the way her hands were now? There were thankfully thick curtains already for the guest room, so there was privacy, but if she wanted to decorate, he needed to be respectful of that, too.

That was not even taking into account the worries about meals. Karma could eat dog food, but Roy found that horribly unfair, and he was not sure if a regular human diet would be appropriate for her health, either. She could probably eat most things safely, but he needed to figure out a dietary plan for her, and that might entail more cooking or trips for groceries than he was used to making. Then there was baths. Roy did not think she could bathe herself, and that meant she would need help, or they would have to figure out some sort of system so she could.

He felt overwhelmed.

They walked out into the hallway, Karma following easily, bristling whenever people got too close. The first person Roy would have to tell was Hawkeye. She was his most trusted subordinate, and she would be the person driving the van back to his place, so they would have time for a private conversation without eavesdroppers. He _needed_ a woman’s help, because Karma was female. There were things men only talked about with other men, and he was certain that the same thing applied for women. Karma needed that connection, and Roy needed the support because he had no idea what he was doing.

Roy could only conclude that there were few things more terrifying than being entirely responsible for the safety, happiness, and health of another person. He had just learned everything, and he was already obsessively worrying about what could go wrong. This was different from the Elrics, whenever the elder brother came along to apply as a State Alchemist under his command. The brothers he left in Resembool had committed the taboo of human transmutation and suffered the consequences. They were at fault for their own situation, and if they joined the military, they would have the freedom to leave at any time.

Karma was completely different, an innocent victim, and she did not have the ability to get away from him if he harmed her. She could run away, but starving to death on the streets was hardly better. She did not have a home she could return to. Roy contemplated asking where her parents were, but he was afraid of what that might dredge up. This whole situation was too new, too sensitive with too little information, for him to dig deep and potentially rip open old wounds.

He wondered about Shou Tucker, and his talking chimera. He had a horrible, creeping suspicion, and if _that_ were the case, they needed to look into it immediately. Such a person could not be permitted to walk free. Karma might know something, so he would probably have to ask her.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by his staff greeting him in the main lobby. “So she’s walking on a leash now? I’m kind of surprised.” Havoc was by the reception desk, and it seemed he had been talking to the clerical worker managing it. The woman had an accordion wallet strikingly similar to Maes, except instead of photographs of a spouse or family, it was filled with photographs of frogs. Havoc seemed strangely relieved to have Roy there for a distraction.

“She still fought the technicians, but she seems fine with me holding the leash. I wouldn’t try petting her, though. The sedative hasn’t really succeeded in completely calming her down.” It was obvious, and Karma seemed to have a unique talent for intimidation. She properly glared at everyone in the room, although Roy was half-convinced some of it was for show. If someone looked like they wanted to approach, she would bare her teeth and growl. Sedatives were meant to calm an animal down, but by taking the edge off of her panic, it seemed as if the drug had actually made her more threatening, overall. The chimera was probably captured, largely due to her desire to avoid violent conflict. She fought to a certain extent, but held back because it had never been her intention to put someone in a hospital. If she _wanted_ to hurt people, though, she could do so very easily.

“I don’t think I want to. Don’t want to push my luck. She looks a lot better now that she’s clean, though.” Havoc remarked.

“Well, I’m going to try to get her home before it wears off and she decides to start fighting again. Maybe we’ll be lucky and she’ll stay in the kennel this time.” Roy was a master of hiding his emotions, but Hawkeye was equally good at reading him. Her eyes narrowed just the faintest amount, and it was clear that she was detecting, by whatever means, that he was probably far more stressed than he was letting on.

When they went out into the parking lot and they attempted to get her into the van, Karma attempted to resist a little, using a paw and refusing to let them push her back into the wire cage in the trunk, but Roy could tell that she was pretending. She could easily get out of the kennel, and was mostly doing it for show so other people did not become too suspicious. It was also clear that even if she was willing to be more compliant for Roy, out of respect for him volunteering to look after her, that did not entail absolute obedience. It was a tiny way of testing his patience, just as much as it was a display to fool his men.

When Roy and Hawkeye got into the car, his Second Lieutenant pulling onto the street, she spoke, “Sir, is something the matter?” The veterinarian had mentioned being concerned over something she had found regarding Karma, and Roy had never said specifically what it was.

At first, he thought about telling her, right there, that Karma was a chimera, like he had planned to. Then he considered the fact that Hawkeye was driving a moving vehicle, and how finding out that a dog was actually a victim of human experimentation would be shocking, even for a war veteran. This was not an appropriate time to tell her anything, because it could very well endanger their safety if he did. “Yes, but not while we’re moving.”

“Understood, sir. Did you prepare everything you need to take care of her?”

“I forgot a few things, but nothing urgent,” He said. Karma would have a bed and he could provide food for her currently, although he needed to figure out a diet and get other things for her. She probably needed something different from the exact same things as a human, and even if he was no doctor, he knew he would have to ease her into eating larger meals, or she might get sick. “I’ll probably have to cancel my date so I have time to go looking. I think this dog is my version of Havoc’s bad luck. She seems to be the reason behind whenever I can’t meet someone.”

“You’ll probably have to go on fewer dates regardless, sir. Dogs require an investment of your time, and it won’t be fair to leave her home alone constantly. I do think that Havoc may be better off with Lucy, however. He seems happier.”

“Well, looking after her seems to have prevented Breda from listening to another night of broken-hearted rambling, so I’d agree.” Instead of going out to get drinks and having a meltdown that lasted the whole time, Havoc apparently found satisfaction in trying to play with Lucy and win her over. It was an overall healthier pastime than drowning his sorrows with alcohol, and Breda certainly liked the outcome. When you initially met Havoc his failed romantic pursuits could be seen as comical, due to how he responded, but considering he would react similarly to every failed relationship, even with women he hardly knew, it eventually got old. Most of the office would console Havoc over failed relationships if they had lasted several dates, because that meant they were doing really well, but they struggled to care for anything less serious.

When they got to his apartment and Hawkeye stopped the car, she looked at him expectantly, “Something’s wrong, sir.” It was stated as a fact, and she wanted to know why he was trying to avoid telling her in a moving vehicle. There were several deeper meanings behind that small number of words.

Roy sighed, “Karma is a human chimera. She’s a fifteen-year-old girl in an animal’s body and I don’t know what I’m doing, but I just agreed to become her guardian.” He watched the emotions flash across her features, a slight widening of the eyes, as fingers gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter. “She started talking when we went into the examination room. She’s eloquent, and was fighting us so hard because she thought we were going to kill her when we found out. The blood test gave it away.”

“A situation similar to the Elrics, sir, or…?”

“She’s not even an alchemist,” That alone was an answer, “I need your help with this, Second Lieutenant.” He fell silent, then, waiting for an answer, suffering an uncharacteristic level of anxiety compared to how he usually thought of himself.

“If I may, then I can speak with her when we get her inside, sir.” She spoke slowly, fingers relaxing and finally letting go of the steering wheel.

“I would appreciate that…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all talk about parental Roy, now we will have some parental Riza as well.
> 
> SCRIPT:
> 
> (At Breda's place in the barracks)
> 
> Breda: So, how'd the thing with Karma go?
> 
> Havoc: She actually walked out on a lead with the Lieutenant Colonel. Still growled at everyone else though. She looked pretty angry at the whole situation.
> 
> Breda: Well, that's good, right? At least she likes her new owner. So...how'd the talk with the receptionist lady go?
> 
> Havoc: She wouldn't stop talking about frogs. I know more about frogs now than I ever wanted to know.
> 
> Breda: Hey, you figured out her interests and listened to her, so if you ask me that was pretty great.


	8. Domino Effect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karma talks with Riza, and Roy questions her about her circumstances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Karma is going to be living with Roy, she will be more open with information about herself with him and Riza compared to other characters. This is different from the original story, where she opens up to the Elric brothers and no one else.
> 
> I feel like this chapter is slightly forced, but Karma is a bit of a different character from her counterpart. She's processed logically, at least, a lot of what's happened to her, and she's gone a full three months without any assistance from someone else regarding her survival. She's a lot less timid and far more vocal. She may also seemingly alternate between anxiety, calm, and other things. Keep in mind Karma is very underweight and her state of starvation is causing some instability in her mood. Also she's been through a traumatic vet visit and is probably very tired. She will get better with time and as her health improves.
> 
> Also it occurs to me that Riza Hawkeye does go to a shooting range to practice, but her only other hobby seems to revolve around Black Hayate when she gets him as a puppy. That made writing a basic conversation with her a bit difficult, but I did try.
> 
> Hope you people enjoy this.

Karma found that the sedative was wearing off faster than she though it would, riding in the back of the van, once again in the kennel that had been set up for her, though this time, she was there voluntarily. Even so, it made a sickening prickle itch under her skin, claws clenching and unclenching, tapping. She wanted to destroy it, and even in her weak state, she could probably do so, but there was one other person in the van with the Lieutenant Colonel and she had to keep up a ruse. So she tried to console herself by leaving shallow scratches in the plastic, trying not to grimace when the whole structure cracked from her fidgeting.

That was the thing about hunger. She had been inside of a cage before, a larger one that let her move around more, and for a much longer time, but she could not recall having felt so restless and angry, then. With the sedative she had found her reflexes dulled, but it had also, unlike what she had initially thought, taken off some sort of edge she was always on. Karma knew it was in her head; the familiar sense of being trapped with no way out, mixed with how horrible she felt from being in a state of starvation. Anxiety, depression, periods of dramatic mood swings, when you were not eating enough, your mental state fell apart. When it got really bad like this, she felt the urge to cut her own skin, although she had never actually acted on it.

The rain from the past few days had made a lot of things worse. It was hard to scavenge, and a completely empty stomach for Karma never ended well. She did not know if it was because of how much weight she had lost, or because of the sense of violation she still felt from the vet’s office, but there was a chill that had sunk into her being. She did not think she was actually sick, but Karma felt cold.

The van stopped moving and the engine cut off, and Karma briefly held her breath before trying to regain some sort of self-control. _Don’t bite, don’t bite, they’re nice, don’t mess this up._ Although she had not actually bitten anyone thus far, she was practically no different from a cornered wild animal right now, and if she was startled she might do it without even meaning to. Her heart nearly jumped into her throat when the doors of the van were opened, both the Lieutenant Colonel and the blonde lady were there.

She did not see the bright blue lead that the veterinary clinic seemed to use for whenever animals did not have a proper leash and collar.

“Karma, this is Second Lieutenant Hawkeye. She is trustworthy.” He had a face that looked incredibly calm, but she could sense his anxiety, which in turn, did nothing for her own nerves. She was incredibly good at picking up on people’s emotions despite her social isolation, and being able to read them had always been advantageous. She struggled, though, to tell if she was just good at reading or sensing things, or if every human emotion, even more complex ones, had some sort of corresponding pheromone. She knew anxiety, at the very least, did.

The Second Lieutenant was the first person he trusted enough to share her secret with. “Please,” She began, “You can call me Riza.” She wore a smile on her face, but Karma could see the muted horror hiding behind her eyes, and smell her sadness. It made her feel like she was being seen as some sort of fragile thing made of glass. On the inside she felt like barbed wire.

“Since my men aren’t here, I think you would prefer to skip the leash.” The Lieutenant Colonel reached into the trunk and unlatched the kennel, which Karma wasted no time in escaping from, almost knocking into the man when she jumped out. “Not fond of the kennel?” His voice had an almost indiscernible tremble to it that told her he had been startled. She was probably charging at the alchemist far too much for his liking. He was probably wary of her, just like she was not entirely trusting of him.

Karma gave him a flat look that would have registered as an unspoken ‘obviously’ to even the most oblivious of people, but she already felt a bit better, just being able to move freely. The cage had been the cause of whatever prickling sensation she had been experiencing. She hoped she never had to go inside of one ever again, and that the soldier would never try to justify it, no matter how uneasy being in close proximity with a chimera made him. Her mental health was already not where it ought to be, and her first proper interactions with humans did not need to constantly be negative, or it would just keep slipping.

She missed Squirrel— _Lucy_ —and Mouse. The cold feeling swirled in her chest, drifting into her extremities. She wanted to curl up with them for a while, just until their warmth chased it away. Except they were not here, she might never see the other dogs (What was going to happen to Lux, Boon, and Leo? Winter was hard on all dogs, not just her), and she had to suppress a shudder at the thought of being hugged by one of these strangers. Karma had always been particular about physical contact. She craved affection from people or pets that she had a close bond with, and was repulsed by everyone else.

“Not comfortable talking out here, huh? Let’s go inside, then.” The Lieutenant Colonel led them to his first-floor apartment and opened the door, for a brief moment everyone standing around it, as if quietly trying to assess who would pass through it first. Karma wound up refusing to enter until everyone else had, not wanting her back to the soldiers.

The interior of the alchemist’s apartment was nothing impressive. It had cream-painted walls and dark wooden plank floors. There was one dark green sofa, a low coffee table, and a tall bookshelf in one corner. It looked lived-in, but sparse, in that way that a home did when someone used it more as a place for sleeping or otherwise existing, versus trying to decorate. There was the living room and a combined kitchen and dining area through an archway. A narrow hallway probably led to the bedrooms and a bath. The place smelled strongly of the soldier’s scent, books, smoke from wood, and blown-out candles.

It also smelled of takeout from various places, someone who was likely a male friend who had visited recently, and at least six or seven different females who had passed through. Karma’s sense of smell was so powerful it could almost be equivalent to vision, and there was an entire world that humans were completely unaware of, as much as they disregarded olfaction. She could determine whether something was closer to male or female biologically, in addition to age, health, and even things like what someone had eaten recently and certain emotions.

The Lieutenant Colonel was already speaking again, “If we’re going on a first-name basis, you can call me Roy. Although I have plenty of questions, I think you would rather eat something first. I have some chicken in the fridge, but I’ll have to cook it.” It seemed almost as if he were questioning if she really wanted it, like she might ask for something else. It was a question masked as a statement.

“I’ll eat just about anything, so I have no complaints. I do appreciate the prospect of not having to worry about food poisoning, though.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could how Riza’s hands fisted briefly. Karma’s voice did not hurt when she tried to speak, but it was far from pleasant even to her own ears. It had a growling resonance that a human throat could not produce, and it was deep and feminine at the same time in a way that was unnatural. Both of the humans smelled sad, to her.

“Well you won’t have to worry about it anymore. I’ll get started on it. In the meantime, why don’t you talk with Hawkeye? You’ll be seeing her around quite a bit.” He went into the kitchen at that, leaving the two of them standing by the entrance, quietly regarding each other for a few moments, before Riza gestured for her to follow and went to take a seat on the sofa. Karma was too big to fit on the furniture and uncomfortable with the idea of sitting directly next to the woman, so she sat across from her near the coffee table instead.

“So Karma, tell me about yourself. Any hobbies?” It was perhaps the most normal, stereotypical question that could be asked, and for that reason, it was jarring. Nothing about this situation was normal.

She looked down at her paws—hands—and her response was hesitant, “I’m an artist…but…my dexterity is…I think I could get it back if practiced a lot, but it’s nowhere near what it was.”

“What kind of art do you work on?” Riza seemed unfazed by Karma’s uneasiness, not really acknowledging it and continuing to carry on the conversation as if she were talking to any other person she had just met. Perhaps that was the whole point, trying to ignore her appearance or problems and learn about who she was beyond being a chimera. What she was could not be overlooked, but it was simply one aspect of her, not all of who she was.

“Lots of things. Pen-and-ink, basic drawing, watercolor, ink paintings, and pastel. I know how to screen print and make linocuts, too, but I don’t think printing techniques are a thing I should attempt. I can sew, too.” Her ear twitched, “What about you?” The smell of cooking chicken hit her nose, then. She tried to ignore it and focus on the conversation. It felt surreal, being offered actual food like what a human would eat, after eating trash and being treated like an animal after so many months. It was even more bizarre that a person had offered to prepare a meal specifically for her. Her lifestyle of scarcity and sub-human existence had become her version of ‘normal’ at some point, and though she appreciated how things had turned out, she felt out of place.

“I go to the shooting range, mostly, and go on walks when I’ve decided the cost of ammo isn’t worth it.” Riza replied. Karma did not personally understand how shooting at targets would be fun, given the loud noise, but at a bare minimum, the Second Lieutenant had picked a hobby that could potentially save her life or someone else’s. If someone was going to shoot a gun, they might as well have good aim.

“How much does it usually cost?” She asked.

“About a hundred cenz per round, the end cost for a case is two thousand. How much did supplies for your artwork cost?”

“Depends on what you’re doing. You get what you pay for, though.” Although the conversation was succeeding in lessening her anxiety, Karma knew that the two soldiers had likely planned this out before letting her out of the van. Roy was out of sight in the kitchen, but it was still likely that he was eavesdropping. The chimera was careful to avoid giving too much information about herself to Riza, because unless her situation was clearly explained, she could put both people in serious danger. Although it was not by choice, Karma had been pulled into something much greater than herself, and she needed to be careful with the information she had.

She continued to talk with the Second Lieutenant about varying subjects (ranks in the military, old paintings), both of them steering away from topics when things seemed to grow too close for comfort on either side, until Roy emerged with a plate of cooked chicken that had been cut into small pieces. It was a smaller portion, but Karma understood without asking why he may have held back on giving her a large amount. If she ate too much after being in a state of starvation for so long, she would only make herself sick. Regaining weight was no longer as simple as eating regular meals. “Well, here you go. It isn’t anything fancy, but it’s better than dog food.” He set the plate down on the floor.

“Thank you,” It was very tempting to go through the chicken right then and there, but she controlled herself. “I can probably eat this in a slightly more dignified manner.”

“What do you mean by-” He watched her lift a piece of chicken using her claws, “…I see.”

“Might as well ask your questions now.” She noted, eating what she had grabbed. Almost nothing had been done to it, but it was actually fresh. That alone made it well worth the wait.

_Don’t rush, they won’t take it away._

Roy found that reading Karma was difficult; he prided himself on his ability to determine people’s thoughts and intentions through body language, but the chimera had a canine appearance, and seemed to be capable of masking her expressions. It was just enough that it threw him off, and furthermore, he noticed her deflecting topics away from herself multiple times during her conversation with Hawkeye. She was never rude, but seemed to have an aversion to anything that became too personal, which would make questioning her about her circumstances difficult. He was uncertain if it was because she was afraid of being brought into contact with a family that would reject her, or if she had developed an unhealthy attachment to the person who had transmuted her, and wanted to protect him, though that seemed unlikely. Roy needed to figure out where she had come from and identify the culprit.

If he was left to his own devices, Karma’s kidnapper might very well try to abduct and transmute another human chimera. Roy also needed to inquire about her opinions regarding Shou Tucker’s work; a chimera that looked entirely animal with a perfect understanding and comprehension of human speech seemed far too similar to what had happened to the teen. There were high odds that the much-lauded Sewing-Life Alchemist had done something horrible, and had not only escaped punishment, but had even been rewarded for his crime.

Although Roy had dealt with plenty of bad situations, he felt his stomach twist into a knot when Karma gave her consent to be questioned. This would be especially unpleasant for her, and he felt bad knowing that he would have to dredge up so many problems when she needed shelter and protection, more than anything else. “Alright, then,” He began, “First question. Where did you come from? Any relatives we need to look for?”

“No…” The quietness of that statement did not carry any evidence of a lie, only something bitter, as she quickly bit into another morsel.

“No parents?”

“Hit head-on by a drunk driver when I was twelve. I came from a facility. Isn’t that why I got kidnapped? You have family, they’ll keep looking even if authorities give up, because not knowing what happened to you doesn’t give them closure. But kids run away all the time from orphanages. It’d be easy. I had a routine like clockwork, he could just stalk me and I wouldn’t notice. He didn’t do it spur-of-the-moment. He planned it.” Roy would probably have to repair a few planks on his flooring, because the claws on her left foot were digging into it and leaving scratches. Karma was probably remembering something highly unpleasant, and doing her best to ground herself so the memory did not trigger some sort of breakdown.

Still, though, the information was both sad and horrifying. Karma had lost her parents three years ago, and that meant the grief would still be very difficult to cope with. Adding insult to injury, she had been tossed into an orphanage, which meant she had no living relatives who qualified as guardians, and no family friends who would look after her. Then someone had taken advantage of that, using her like a lab rat. The poor kid had been through so much, and had done absolutely nothing to deserve it.

“When did this happen?”

“Roughly eight months ago….kept me in a cage for five of ‘em. Then I got away and wound up here.”

That made it even more sickening. Prolonged imprisonment, and Roy doubted that Karma had been treated as human. “Where?” He wanted to catch this man, he was half-tempted to burn him alive; this was more than a crime, it was an atrocity.

“Can’t tell.”

He straightened, “Why not? We need to get him off the streets, Karma, before he hurts someone else.”

She regarded him quietly, for a bit, “How about I ask you a question? Because how I answer is going to be based on what you say. What do you think of this country? What do you really believe in your heart? _Do not lie.”_ There was a surprising level of ferocity in those words. Karma must have known who they were, she knew their names, so why...?

Hawkeye’s usually-stoic expression faltered slightly, and she looked down at her hands, no doubt contemplating the guns she had used to snipe innocent people at a distance. Roy could still smell the bodies he had burned, a crematorium scent that was impossible to compare to anything else. The various tissues of the human body all smelled different, from organs to muscles to hair, and there was no proper way to describe it. Some soldiers developed an aversion to the smell of flesh, but Roy had been so close to the destruction that he did not, and he often thought he deserved to be tortured by an everyday smell far more than someone else.

“This country is too focused on war. It kills innocent people.” He was unable to keep the guilt out of his voice.

Karma stared at him hard for a few moments, before closing her eyes and breathing a shaky sigh of relief, “That’s…good…not…the death part, but your opinion. Because if you had said you though things were great, I would have refused to tell you anything else.” She opened her eyes, “The guy who abducted me…he was…mixed up in some really bad stuff. He was a contractor for the military. I didn’t know that was a thing, but apparently there was good money in selling stable chimeras for research or guarding purposes…but see…” Her eyes narrowed, “That’s what you know _publicly.”_

Roy felt a sense of dread from the expression he saw on the chimera’s face, then.

“The military? They’ve been experimenting with chimeras for… _years,_ maybe. They want their super-soldiers. They use alchemists like you…How far-fetched is it that they’d be setting up labs and making human chimeras? Some guy finds out about it by snooping…decides he wants a slice of the pie…That’s how I got stuck in this mess.”

“Karma, if this is true, a conspiracy like this could go all the way to the top.” It was the most convoluted thing he had ever heard, and to make it worse, it made perfect sense.

“I’m pretty positive it does…But that’s why you can’t go after the guy who transmuted me. The people in charge of this thing are probably a higher rank than you, and they’ll silence you if they think you’re a threat to the secret. You can’t investigate me going missing without drawing attention. Okay I spent months locked up in close proximity with that guy, and he was _paranoid…_ but the thing is, he had every reason to be.”

Roy fell quiet, silently contemplating this information—maddening, far-fetched, but he had living proof right in front of him—and watched as Karma retuned to eating the chicken he had cooked. She consumed it at a slower pace than he had expected, but he could tell she was forcing herself to avoid eating quickly. She was exerting a remarkable amount of self-control, which was admirable, considering even the toughest of individuals probably would have tried to shovel everything into their mouths, fearful of it being taken away, after living in a state of starvation for three whole months.

He needed to discuss this with Maes, and he was tempted to ask how Karma had escaped from a laboratory, or even a reinforced cage like what was often reserved for large predators, but thought better of it. She must have fought back, or figured out some method to slip away. Whatever she had done, her kidnapper was still alive. She had not taken a life, thankfully.

“I’ll have to discuss this with a friend in Central. You’ll probably meet him in the future,” Roy decided to say aloud, “He’s trustworthy.” By this point Karma had finished her meager portion. He would have to figure out a proper diet for her, but for meals, he probably needed to keep portions small and offer food at least four times a day to get her weight back to normal. Her stomach would be shrunken from not holding anything for so long, and he needed to take that into account. If she noticed how little she had been given, she did not protest. He had a feeling that she understood why.

“Do what you have to,” She replied.

“I do have one final question for now,” He leaned forward, steepling his fingers, “Are you familiar with the Sewing-Life Alchemist, Shou Tucker?”

Karma’s ears lowered slightly, “No, but something about his title alone is sending up red flags.”

“He gained his certification by being the first alchemist to create a chimera capable of understanding human speech.” She had gone very still, and it was eerie, but Roy continued, “The chimera said only one thing, ‘I want to die’ and refused to eat or drink until it did.”

“That was…” There was a faint tremble, “You need to arrest him. I bet if you looked, someone went missing. He got away with it, he was _praised_ for it. He has incentive to do it again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone up for a chapter with Shou Tucker's arrest? Karma wouldn't be there because she would admit to being too tempted to maul him if she saw him, but I think that would be interesting.
> 
> SCRIPT:
> 
> (Late night phone call)
> 
> Roy: Maes, she just told me that Shou Tucker probably transmuted a human being, too. I'm serious!
> 
> Maes: Okay...just checking. I was worried maybe you were drinking again and had too much. So, when do I get to meet the young lady? You know I kind of expected you to get married, not leap straight into adoption.
> 
> Roy: *Uncomfortable* Well they'll probably send you to help us arrest him, I'm sure they have tissue samples we can use as evidence...I'd actually appreciate if you brought Gracia with you, too. Whenever I visit Central I'm going to have to take her with me, I can't use the hotel I normally go to."
> 
> Maes: Inviting us both to stay over? Roy, I'm sure Gracia would be delighted, but I'll ask. Maybe we'll even bring an apple pie!
> 
> Roy: Maes, I don't think you understand, she's very thin. She can't eat a whole lot or she'll get sick.
> 
> Maes: So we give her small slice!


	9. Refeeding Period

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five days later, Roy and Karma try to adjust to living in the same household. Maes Hughes and his wife arrive at East City.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who read Patchwork Guardian, you will already know that Karma has the talent necessary to become an alchemist. She will become rather skilled, enough to rival a State Alchemist, and I do have a reason for this for those who read stories by themselves. Firstly, Karma is not a trained soldier and is limited to an animal-like combat style, which is only effective against certain kinds of enemies. When homunculi appear, she is at a very high risk of being killed because being a chimera alone in her current form has almost no protective benefit. Alchemy serves to make her more valuable, a potential sacrifice. It is also something that I am giving her because, as limited as she is in many aspects of life, might as well.
> 
> This in mind, while Karma will be very powerful as an alchemist, in most combat scenarios, you will never see her use it. Karma's primary weapons are her teeth and claws, and because animals cannot use alchemy, performing transmutations is a dead giveaway to her nature as a chimera. Alchemy will be for use in private, non-combat scenarios, primarily, and if used in combat, it will be in most cases attempts to help allies rather than attacking enemies outright, while attempting to be as discreet as possible. If Karma uses alchemy in a way that puts her at high risk of being exposed, then you can assume it is very dire.
> 
> This is a longer chapter. I wanted to fit Shou Tucker's arrest into it, but I couldn't, because of the setup. It's coming, though.
> 
> You get some Karma-Roy bonding here.

For the next five days, Roy found that dealing with Karma represented a set of challenges he had not anticipated, and was immensely grateful that the investigation of Shou Tucker had been approved by General Grumman on his word alone. The court-martial of a State Alchemist was a high-profile event, and that automatically entailed that Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes would be sent to help, and needed no excuse to come and visit. He was head of Investigations in Central, and oversaw cases of corruption in the military. In addition, his wife would be coming with him, and Roy had already attempted to clean out the dust in his second guest bedroom, after he gave the original to the chimera. He desperately needed help from both of them, because dealing with a traumatized, malnourished teenager was difficult on top of trying to find evidence while avoiding alerting Tucker to the knowledge that he was under suspicion.

Karma came with a long list of problems, aside from being in the form of a dog. The most urgent was that she was severely underweight, and it would take perhaps months to correct using healthy methods. Although he was already taking steps to fix this, making sure she had a proper mix of protein and vegetables, multiple meals a day, there were associated issues that came with it. The chimera struggled to regulate her body temperature and stay warm, in spite of a fur coat, forcing him to dig up every spare blanket he owned. She got tired very easily; it was not merely a feature of the sedative from the vet, but a result of her poor health. Mentally, she struggled to focus on certain kinds of tasks like reading for long periods, and around mealtimes, if he was caught up or delayed by something, she became anxious, already having learned the schedule.

Roy could not blame her, however, because beneath everything, Karma was far more confident and optimistic than most people would expect from someone in her situation. When she had a full stomach, she was calm, focused, and startlingly intelligent. Who she was could not be defined by her current behavior, because she had been living on the street for three months, and had been treated similarly to an animal even before that. She was used to being mistreated or otherwise neglected, and five days—though it did hurt Roy’s feelings—was not enough to convince her that she was in a safe environment. She had gone for too long not knowing where her next meal would come from to confidently believe that the Lieutenant Colonel would consistently provide her with food as promised.

It continued to upset him, though, because while Roy had been doing his best, Karma would still look around like a feral thing at times, watching him warily as if half-expecting him to hurt her. She would flinch if physical contact was made by pure accident, and growl out of reflex if he got too close to her when she had food. The chimera had never once bitten him or moved to hurt him, and generally apologized right away, but the behavior was both unnerving and horrifically sad. It was made worse by the fact that he knew Karma had literally been forced to fight with stray dogs over scraps, and such behavior had been actively cultivated as a means of ensuring she got her share.

Roy was grateful for Maes and Gracia coming to visit, because that meant that even if he had to go to work, someone would be home to keep an eye on the chimera. The Hugheses were also generally less threatening, and the Lieutenant Colonel knew he had set back his own progress with Karma by using his glove to threaten her when he thought she was only a stray dog. What might have been her first real encounter with an alchemist had no doubt tainted her opinion, and Roy had not yet done anything to prove that transmutation arrays were anything other than weapons or otherwise dangerous things. He could tell that Karma was at least _curious_ , because he had seen her eye some of the basic alchemy books he kept lying around, but she never asked even once.

Alchemy was a science, and therefore, the morals behind it were dictated by how someone chose to use it. Karma had sufficiently witnessed how evil it could be; biological transmutations that combined living creatures, and his own alchemy, which had taken countless lives. Although Roy knew it was selfish, because his own work was tainted with innocent blood, he wanted to show her it was not entirely bad.

Broaching the topic, however, was a terrifying prospect, and he spent the duration of his time preparing breakfast to dwell on the subject. Roy cooked separate foods for himself and Karma, because while the soldier was only concerned with maintaining his current weight, the chimera needed far more calories in a smaller portion. Roy would only eat scrambled eggs, while the teen would have oatmeal with whole milk and a large amount of nuts. Admittedly, looking after her had probably led to improvements in his own dietary health.

Karma, meanwhile, was sitting off to one corner, trying to practice drawing. Her thumb—or dewclaw—allowed her to grab things to some extent, but the muscles in her hands were different now from the transmutation, and she needed to retrain herself to have the dexterity she desired to write or draw. Although her lines were crooked and sometimes too light, it was clear that Karma’s artistic ability was greater than her hands would currently permit. For what it was, Roy was rather impressed, and it was worth the minor annoyance of hearing a pen being dropped, over and over.

“Alright, breakfast is ready,” He noted, spooning the oatmeal into a bowl and adding the nuts and milk. Later, Karma’s meal would have to be a special, high-calorie dog food that Dr. Erdman had prescribed, concluding that as much as they did not like it, Karma’s nutritional needs were probably closer to a dog or bear than a human. It would take more extensive research to figure out a proper dietary plan that did not involve something processed, and because of her current health, taking risks was not something they could afford.

Roy was unsure what was worse, the fact that he had agreed to feed a teenager something not meant for humans, or the fact that Karma did not seem to care at all, so long as it was edible.

The chimera set down her pen and went over to the mat where she ate her meals, and the man set down her bowl before heading over to the table to eat his own. After a few bites in through his meal, while Karma ate almost all of hers in the same duration, Roy spoke, “I noticed you reading the spines on my alchemy books. Perhaps I’m jumping to conclusions, but it seems like you have an interest in learning.”

She was quiet for a long while, before answering, “…I could flinch away from it, but the more I avoid it the harder it’s gonna be in the long run. I wasn’t sure if it was okay to ask.”

“You’re allowed to ask, the only thing I wouldn’t teach you is flame alchemy. If you want to learn, I’m willing to provide you with study materials.” He tried not to dwell on the thought that the chimera might have, like any captive trapped for extended periods, begun interacting with her kidnapper, and upon asking about alchemy, had been punished for it. Living in fear was exhausting, but boredom could be its own form of torture, and Karma was likely prone to it. Though her hunger disrupted her thoughts often, she was constantly thinking. Such a person would do poorly in an environment without some form of enrichment, and as terrible as it would have been, it was likely that the alchemist who had abducted her was the only source of entertainment she had.

“I want to learn, but…it’s gotta be useful…” She mused, more to herself at the last part. “Human transmutation is forbidden, but people can combine animals and humans into chimeras. Has anyone ever bothered to research using alchemy to heal injuries or perform medical treatments? I can think of several viable ideas, though I don’t have the working knowledge…”

Amestris was largely focused on industry and warfare, and its alchemy reflected this. While it did exist within the medical field, it was often used to produce and maintain sensitive equipment, rather than used directly on people as a means of treatment. It could synthesize drugs, and in theory, healing injuries was possible. It was merely studied so little, people had no idea how much could be done. Fear of human transmutation was also a major deterrent, since performing alchemy on live humans seemed to come very close.

It was possible to transmute a dead corpse, however, that looked completely human, and not commit the taboo. Alchemy’s greatest sin, as far as Roy could tell, revolved around trying to revive the dead or create life. Souls existed, he knew that from seeing one bound to a suit of armor. Whatever souls were, they were impossible to match in value.

“Medical alchemy exists, but it’s a very rare field of study. You have to be a doctor, in addition to an alchemist. That’s an extensive amount of research, and there’s very little literature on the subject.”

“You don’t have to be a doctor to perform emergency first-aid.” Karma seemed to have her mind made up.

“Well, then, I’ll set out some books for you to read while I’m at work, and come back during lunch hour. If I get held up, try not to worry.”

“It’s not like I even _mean_ to be anxious, but…” She abruptly closed her mouth and shook her head, “Never mind, whatever. You’re watching the clock, right? You’ve got five minutes.”

Roy looked up at the clock on the wall, and bolted upright, swearing under his breath. He was going to be late for work if he didn’t hurry up and leave soon. Five minutes was barely enough time to clean the dishes and put them away. He _still_ had not told Karma that Maes and Gracia were coming for a visit.

 _“Language!”_ Karma hissed.

“Alright, I need to get the dishes washed, or it’ll attract bugs. If you can get it down yourself, a good book is the first one to the left on the second-lowest shelf. I need to head out or I’m going to be late, and then Hawkeye will shoot me.” He picked up his plate and then Karma’s bowl, and went over to the sink, rushing, “Listen, a friend of mine is coming to visit with his wife from Central this afternoon. They’re trustworthy, and I was going to warn you, but-”

“You got caught up in a conversation, it happens. Just tell me about it when you get back for lunch. It’s fine.” Karma did not _sound_ fine with it, but he supposed that was as good as she could manage given her situation.

“Sorry, Karma,”

“It’s fine,” She insisted, before walking over to the papers she had been drawing on and picking them up in her mouth. She would have to make a second trip for her pen, but she was probably going to take everything and retreat into her guestroom-turned-bedroom to process things. Whether or not she would go and take the book he had mentioned, he was not sure.

…Roy really was behind on a lot of things. Karma needed a proper notebook, perhaps spiral-bound with a protective sleeve so she was not damaging things when she carried them in her mouth. She also did not have a proper collar yet to indicate that she was no longer a stray, or any proper possessions of her own.

As he returned the cleaned dishes to their rightful places in the cabinets and rushed out the door, Roy could not help but think that he needed to remedy these problems.

He tried not to dwell on the fact that there was very little that made the current situation any different from being a parent, apart from what was obvious.

Maes Hughes normally would have arrived earlier than his stated time whenever he came to visit Roy, but for a change, he only appeared at the office to pester his friend when he said he would, later that afternoon. The reasons were obvious; he had Gracia with him, firstly, and secondly, while he could afford to be less considerate with the Flame Alchemist, he needed to be mindful of the youth that Roy had taken into his care. Every night Maes had been given updates on how things were going, and when he entered the office, it was obvious from just looking at Roy that he was stressed. The signs were faint and easy to miss, but he seemed to move just a tad too sluggishly, and there were slight dark circles under his eyes. The man had a lot on his mind and was probably losing sleep over it.

“Yo! Roy! How’s it going!” Maes exclaimed, striding into the room. There was a small chorus of greetings from the soldiers, combined with the typical anxiety they displayed whenever they were expecting to see pictures. He could not understand _why_ someone would be anything other than thrilled to look at his wife. She was like an angel descended from the heavens.

There was a brief moment of hesitation that was unusual, before his friend looked at him. Something resembling relief mixed with the usual expression of fondness when he registered who had spoken. “Maes, right on schedule. How is the investigation of Tucker coming along?” They were still on the clock, and Second Lieutenant Hawkeye was still present. Talking about non-work-related things would not end well, and the topic was relevant, anyway.

“Well, Roy, it looks like this case will go pretty fast. We’ve already gotten a warrant.” Maes tried to keep a cheery front, but in truth, his blood was boiling. His wife. Shou Tucker had been married, but it had not been a secret that the reclusive alchemist’s wife had separated, allegedly going to live with relatives in Central. Maes had gone to track down living relatives from the woman’s side of the family, and found only one, a sister in prison. Not only did she tell Maes that she had not seen Mrs. Tucker in years, but there had been additional, more disturbing claims. When their parents were alive, Tucker had behaved in a very manipulative fashion, seemingly discouraging his wife from interacting with her family. Even before the marriage, people had not approved of him, deeming him to be self-interested, and seemingly unconcerned for the happiness of other people.

 _“He’s no good, that man, something about him ain’t right in the head. He tortures animals for a living, I don’t want him anywhere near my sister, but I can’t do nothin’ here.”_ Gabrielle Fletcher had said, handcuffed to a table in prisoner grey, convicted for the crime of armed robbery. Upon hearing that her sister had gone missing, her whereabouts having been a lie, the woman’s expression had gone dark. She informed Maes that she was positive Tucker had some sort of involvement with her disappearance, and if he arrested him, _“Don’t send ‘em here, or murder gets added to my list of charges. Nobody hurts my family.”_

Tissue samples from the chimera, including fur, dental information, and such, had not been examined yet, but the Investigations department was already requesting them from the labs where they were stored. With the support of a general, there were very few people who could stop the proceedings. Although they did not yet have enough evidence to convict Tucker, they had enough that it was deemed acceptable to take him into custody.

A speedy case. Normally, Maes would have been thrilled, if the reason why had not been so, horribly sad. They would be searching Tucker’s residence tomorrow and looking for any indication of what might have happened within his research, and they had called a different alchemist specializing in chimeras to help with the investigation. Although by this point, Maes had a permanent level of dislike for such people, some of the alchemists who worked on chimeras did attempt to be humane. They would use anesthesia on animals before transmuting them to reduce pain, and euthanize a chimera that was suffering.

He still did not think it was acceptable, but if there were chimera researchers with some form of integrity, surely they would state whether or not the remains of Shou Tucker’s creation had a human component? If they did not, the coroner would be there to identify suspicious anatomy. Tucker had been obligated upon submitting the chimera for his certification to list what animals he had used. Someone would surely spot human in its makeup.

It made him sick thinking about it, because while the evidence was not concrete, there was another talking chimera who was thoroughly convinced of Tucker’s guilt, and Maes believed _her_ word over anyone else. He believed Gabrielle Fletcher, and if they found out the chimera really _was_ Mrs. Tucker, Maes would have to tell the poor woman what had happened.

How could anyone do something so horrible to their wife? It was unthinkable.

“I imagine you’ll want my assistance. Tucker’s no combat alchemist, but you never know how people will respond when you tell them they’re under arrest.” There was the faintest glimmer in Roy’s eyes that told Maes he was probably eager to participate in the arrest. The Flame Alchemist had decided to look after a teenage chimera only a few days ago, but it was clear that he was taking his new caretaker role very seriously. He had a great deal of personal investment in the situation, and as far as Maes could tell, was trying extremely hard to win Karma’s trust. He had described the young lady as rather skittish, alternating between acting like a normal person and a wild animal.

Then again, Maes had no idea what living for months amongst animals would do to someone, especially when other human beings consistently treated her as something other than a person. She had interacted with a pack of feral dogs in a way that made her indistinguishable from a normal canine, apart from displaying higher intelligence.

“Well, I plan on making the arrest tomorrow. We can catch him bright and early in the morning.”

Havoc, over at his desk, frowned thoughtfully, “Wait a minute, when did this happen? Who’s this…Tucker guy?”

Roy looked over at his subordinate, “The Sewing-Life Alchemist, Shou Tucker, is considered to be the leading authority on chimera research for the military. For those who don’t know, chimeras are creatures made by combining animals using alchemy. We have reason to suspect that he committed a serious crime in order to obtain his license,” He raised a brow at Maes, “What evidence got us a warrant this early-on? I thought you were here for just the initial investigation.”

“Immediate disparity of claims,” Maes let the happy façade fall from his face, “His wife’s missing. ”

Roy’s eyes widened slightly. It would have been evil, no matter who was used, but for someone to do something like that to their spouse? The Flame Alchemist’s expression rapidly morphed back into one of cold resolve, “At a bare minimum, he lied about her whereabouts, and that’s grounds for suspecting him of being responsible.”

Maes sighed, “Well, we’re going to find out. I’ve got some people back in Central working on some other things. We should have everything we need to make a conclusion pretty fast. General Grumman really helped us out, here.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty grateful,” Roy rose from his desk, “We have three minutes left, but the work day is effectively over, and I know you brought Gracia to visit this time, also. Let’s not keep her waiting in the main lobby.”

“Right!” Maes straightened, plastering on a smile, “You got a dog!” Secretly code for ‘You need to introduce us to your new charge.’ As much as it made Roy squirm uncomfortably, audible in his voice over the phone, even, he had effectively taken on the role of a parent, which meant Maes had a license to tease him mercilessly. Also, he was, perhaps, just a tad jealous. He and Gracia had wanted children for some time, now, and Roy was not only single, but had somehow beat them to it via bizarre-circumstance adoption.

“Keep in mind she’s not used to people. She might run away if you’re not careful.”

“We’ll keep that in mind.”

Karma found reading to be difficult, and she owed it not to a personal dislike of the activity, but her current half-starved state. Because of this, trying to get through the book Roy had recommended was challenging. She lost focus on a regular basis and had to remember where she had been on the page, and it was frustrating, because under normal circumstances, she would not have this problem. She _liked_ reading, it was an accessible form of entertainment and she could additionally learn from it without getting bored, unless the author was particularly dull. The situation wore down on her nerves, because she existed in a current state where her mind was both unable to focus and restless, while her body only wanted to shut down and rest.

Having access to food had, strangely, actually made the hunger _worse_ , and Karma could only imagine that it was because her body was suddenly remembering what it was like to have consistent meals. If she was a weaker person, she might have struggled to find the motivation to do anything at all. She felt horrible enough that she could have cried about how she felt at the very least, but that was, in itself, a sort of luxury. Karma did not have the ability to shed tears, and survival had been her sole focus for the past months. It was only now that she had the freedom to contemplate everything else that had happened, and how she felt.

How were the three remaining dogs still living in the dump? Karma knew Lux was a capable leader without her, but they were still living in conditions that were unsanitary, and without her around, fresher food was now inaccessible. The chimera was the one who knew how to open dumpsters and trash bins. Would they have everything they needed to survive winter?

It was ridiculous, because as horrible as it was to leave a group of strays to starve, she did not have the means to improve their situation, and had been on the brink, herself. That still did not stop her from feeling as if she had betrayed them, somehow. Of course they were all wary of humans, there was no telling what they thought about Karma, Lucy, and Mouse getting taken away, but what if they knew what would happen if they had a home? What if they knew that their three lost members had been taken to a place with warmth, shelter, food, and safety?

They would probably react with something like exasperated joy. Happy that everyone was okay, and annoyed because pack members had vanished with them having no idea where they had gone. Karma’s situation was too far removed for them to experience something like jealousy, although if she had food, they would definitely want some of it. The only reason Karma felt guilty at all was because of her human nature; the others would not feel the way she currently did.

Roy had been very kind towards her during the past week, Karma’s primary regret was that she was not quite able to shut down the part of her that now equated a human presence with danger. It had been easy to ignore it when she was outside and had the freedom to roam wherever she pleased; she could easily get away from people if she felt threatened, so she felt braver going near them. The Lieutenant Colonel’s apartment was a confined space relative to the city, and forced her to interact with him frequently, with very little room for escape. She was only able to properly relax when he left for work, and for the most part, he left her alone in the guest room he had given to her.

The primary issue was, after having been for the better part of a year treated abnormally, Karma had lost a lot of her energy in regards to interaction. Mustang was not a cruel person and she doubted he would hurt her, but that did not stop her subconscious from screaming that he was a threat. His behavior was closed-off in a way that spoke more of his profession than anything else, but that meant the chimera felt uncomfortable trying to speak with him. She was uncertain if she should respond to his façade or what she thought he was really feeling.

Roy also reeked heavily of anxiety, which Karma knew was related to her presence. It set her on edge, and made her nervous, because _Roy_ was nervous. In spite of this, though, the man really was trying, and it did make Karma feel bad, that she could not seem to overcome her own issues.

It had only been a few days, though. It had to get better. She needed to focus on that.

She forcibly tried to re-focus back on _An Introduction to Basic Alchemy_ , as Roy had indicated, it was a beginner-level book on the subject, the title choosing to loudly declare its purpose. Why, exactly, the Flame Alchemist still had a beginner’s book escaped her, but perhaps it had some sort of sentimental value. That seemed unusual in itself, as there was little indication that the soldier was the sort of person to hoard possessions due to some precious memory. She had managed to get it down from the shelf without damaging it, and had carried it to her room, curling up with it on the floor.

The guest bedroom was a bit muted in decoration. Plain white sheets on a simple wooden frame, a mirror on one wall, and dresser with a lamp. The walls were the same off-white color as the living room, the only colors in the room being a dark shade of green on the lampshade and curtains, which were kept tightly drawn over closed blinds, as the apartment was ground-level. The last thing Karma needed was for someone to look into the window and see a dog doing some decidedly un-dog-like things.

Roy had promised Karma that on his next off-day, he would devote some time to helping get her some possessions of her own. Although she did not entirely like the idea, she still needed a new collar to indicate that she was not a stray, and the Lieutenant Colonel had confessed that the room, as plain as it looked, was probably excessively dull to a self-proclaimed artist. It was going to be her own space, so she had every right to decorate it to suit her tastes.

As soon as she had managed to re-focus on the book, she heard the sound of the lock rattling from the front door; that meant Roy was home, and he had his guest with him. Her ear twitched as the door opened. The alchemist did not announce his arrival when he came home, but this time, she heard an unfamiliar voice, _“Sheesh, Roy, the place hasn’t livened up at all.”_ Something almost teasing. Mustang _did_ have sparse decorating sense, but considering he seemed to be absent from home pretty often, he had no reason to make the place look much fancier. The inflection of the man’s tone, Maes Hughes, if she remembered what Roy had told her during lunch correctly, made it difficult to tell from sound alone if he was pretending to be enthusiastic or not.

“ _I’ve been a bit occupied,”_ Roy responded flatly, before raising his voice, _“Karma, don’t eavesdrop. Get out here!”_ The tone was not harsh, in spite of the words. Was he able to see through walls, or something? Then again, she was usually already by the door before he could even get into the building, so perhaps he knew she could hear everyone.

She slowly got up and walked out of her room, letting out a disappointed noise as she made her way down the hallway to the living room, “Aw, you caught me!” Although she kept her tone one of false disappointment, she inspected the two new people, not caring if her gaze made them uncomfortable. Their eyes widened just a fraction in something like horror, both at her appearance truly being that of a dog, and also, perhaps, the prominence of her ribs. _That_ made _her_ uncomfortable. Her everyday reality was now a form of existential horror, but she was over the initial shock. Karma did not enjoy reexperiencing it by watching other people.

Maes Hughes was a man with hazel eyes and rectangular glasses that regularly caught the light, hiding them from view with slight anglings of his head. He had a thin beard on his chin, and his shorter hair spiked in several directions, with a single, prominent cowlick at the front that would likely never lay flat no matter how he combed it. He was wearing a soldier’s uniform, and Karma could make out that Maes had the same rank as Roy, Lieutenant Colonel.

His wife, Gracia, was a woman with uniquely darker blonde hair cut in a bob, and large green eyes. She wore a green camisole underneath a matching cream sweater and skirt, clearly having dressed for travel. Her husband must have been a doting man, because both of Maes’ hands were occupied with suitcases.

It would have been the image of a perfect couple visiting a friend, were it not for the expressions on their faces, swiftly masked behind something more pleasant, though it failed to reach their eyes. “Karma,” Roy began, “These people are Maes and Gracia Hughes. They’ll be staying with us for a bit.”

Karma tilted her head, “That’s surprisingly fast for a case that happened years ago, isn’t it?”

“Well, when you’ve got connections…” Maes shrugged. “So you’re the kid Roy took in, huh?” He very deliberately did not acknowledge her appearance. Being called a _kid_ left the chimera feeling strange; she was fifteen, but had been through so much the label felt ill-fitting. It was too innocent a name to wear when she had endured experiences most grown adults would have been broken by.

“…Yeah…?” It was a case of stating the obvious, which she had no idea how to respond to. She was probably being rude, but her brain was not wanting to cooperate with her at the moment. It was like now that the threat of immediate death was gone, she was no longer able to quickly think of solutions. Perhaps it had to be life-or-death for her to remain eloquent in a state of starvation. She was out of practice; five days did not make up for literal months of uneven communication followed by nonverbal animal behavior.

Karma got a sudden chill and shuddered, which made the situation worse. Being cold came in spells, which was a very scary sign that her metabolism had slowed to the point she could no longer maintain her temperature. It had been a far more recent development, but it indicated that, had not Roy taken her in, she would have inevitably died in the near future. It was a red flag that someone was on the verge of being too far gone to survive, and she had been taken in right on the verge of that.

The second time she shivered, it was not because she was cold.

“You okay?” Maes’ expression became a concerned frown. Somehow, that was easier to respond to.

“…Just cold…it’s normal.” She had showed no signs of refeeding issues, which was positive, and she was definitely getting more fuel for her system in the past five days than she had been living on the streets. Her metabolism would have to speed up, though, from its current state, which was where most of her energy was going right now. She would not regain weight until that happened, first. Their main concern was having this acceleration happen too quickly, which would put her body in a dangerous state due to being depleted of vital nutrients.

A full seven days had to pass before they could start steadily increasing portion sizes, and the second week would be slightly better, but still with a constant need for her health to be monitored. Roy had been nice enough to relay what Dr. Erdman had said. Normally, they would have given Karma a solution through an intravenous drip, but because she was a good patient, they gave her supplement pills instead. It did not need to be spoken aloud, that the veterinarian would have recommended the drip anyway, but because that would entail being kept in the clinic, she did not. The stress of being around so many unfamiliar people, especially given that Karma was actually human and it would be unethical to keep her sedated, could kill as effectively as the hunger.

The fact that she was able to still get up and walk around was the promising sign that tipped things towards less horrifying medical treatment. She had also _been_ eating, and as poor as the fare was, the fact that she did have small amounts of food at also worked in her favor.

She was just happy to only have two days left.

“Well, it’s about time for one of your meals, so I’ll get to work on fixing that,” Roy commented, before looking at the couple, “The usual guest room is Karma’s, now, so you’ll have to take the one to the right. Why don’t you go ahead and get everything settled?

“No problem,” Maes started forward with the suitcase, “We’ll go ahead and do that.”

The two departed from the living room, and when they were out of sight, Karma heaved a sigh of relief, before speaking what came to her mind after that, “I can’t believe you’ve only known for less than a week and you already got an arrest warrant…isn’t that fast?” She had trouble resting easy, knowing that someone like Tucker had not been arrested and was free to roam the streets. Who knew when someone like that would choose another victim?

“Generally speaking, yes, but we had enough evidence to at least link him to someone’s disappearance. We’re still investigating, but we’re arresting him tomorrow.” He raised a brow, “Does that make you feel better?”

“…Yes…”

“Well…I wouldn’t ask you to get out of the car, but would you like to come with us? Otherwise, you’ll have to stay here with Gracia.”

“…I’ll stay here. Might attack the guy. Got a bit of a grudge against chimera researchers…”

“Understandable,” Roy said, before moving towards the kitchen, “The good news, after tomorrow, I have another off day. We can see about getting you some things of your own. We could also ask Gracia for help, since me going around buying things like new quilts might raise questions.”

“It would? People would really pay that much attention?”

“Possibly,” He got out leftovers from the refrigerator, “But nobody would think anything of her seeing something she liked in a shop at East City and wanting to take it home.”

“You’re sure she’d agree to that? She should have a part in the planning.”

“Well, I can probably pretend it’s a gift for one of my dates, if she doesn’t want to. Home décor items are a bit unusual, and not exactly something I’d normally choose for a gift, but people won’t really think too heavily on it.” Roy had explained to her that he had an information network. That network was run and operated primarily by women, and dates were how they disguised business dealings. Sometimes the informants would come over to his apartment for a cup of tea or coffee to discuss matters, just long enough that people got the impression that Roy was a playboy.

After a long silence, the alchemist spoke again, “So, still reading the beginner’s book?”

“If I can ever focus. It’s not even that I find the subject matter boring. It’s like my eyes won’t focus, or my mind won’t process it.”

“Well, it’ll get better.”

“I’ll just scream internally until it does.”

His response was a cough that was probably meant to disguise laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SCRIPT:
> 
> (In the second guest bedroom)
> 
> Gracia: Oh my goodness....that was...terrible...Who could do such a thing to a child?
> 
> Maes: Roy said she looked like a dog...but...it's a lot harder seeing it than it is hearing about it.
> 
> Gracia: She was so thin...
> 
> Maes: Well...she's getting food to eat, so I guess it's just something that'll take time. I'd love to offer her something sweet, but her health's too delicate. Think she'd appreciate a new blanket? I don't like that she was shivering.
> 
> Gracia: We can make a tied fleece one for her, but there are a lot of fabrics to choose from.
> 
> Maes: So, we figure it out. While Roy and I are at work, you can ask about her favorite colors. I can probably find out from Roy what her interests are.
> 
> Gracia: Okay...


	10. The Raven Thinks Backwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The officers set out to arrest Shou Tucker and search his home. A clerical error leads to a tragic surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part of this chapter fought me a great deal to be written. I would like to note that Karma doesn't hate Maes or anything like that, she's just unfamiliar with him and feels uneasy talking about things with him. This mostly boils down to personality traits. Karma has a personality that I think allows her to connect with Roy or Riza relatively easy, but Hughes is a bit confusing for her, so she gets nervous around him. It will wear off a bit, when she starts to get used to him.
> 
> This chapter is not for the faint of heart. It's very sad and somewhat dark. I give you the arrest of Shou Tucker and the mess that follows.

Karma was not used to sleeping during the night, and even though she had been living in Roy’s house for almost a week, she was having trouble adapting to the soldier’s schedule. The Lieutenant Colonel woke up early, around five in the morning, and went to bed at around nine; apparently sometimes later, if he had a date. The chimera was not surprised by this, because it was common knowledge that soldiers were usually awake before sunrise. Her problem, though, was firstly that her nightmares often disturbed her sleep schedule, meaning she had to take naps in order to function. Secondly, pack life in the city had entailed adapting to a nocturnal lifestyle, because it reduced the likelihood of being threatened by humans. Not only was she having issues staying asleep because of bad dreams, but it was difficult to rest, in the first place, when her body was used to being wide awake.

The hunger was not helping, much, either, rousing her to go and seek out food before she starved.

Karma was not surprised when she found herself waking up at one in the morning. What was unexpected, however, was that she could hear activity in the living area. For however long, she simply lay there, in a huge nest of blankets she had created in the very corner of her room on the floor, listening. Roy had originally put them on the bed, thinking that Karma would use it, but when she tried to do so, it had made sleep impossible. The floating sensation she got from the mattress had been unnerving, and the position had felt too exposed. The survival-driven part of her brain paranoidly wondered if the person who was awake would try to enter her room without permission, even though logically she knew there was no threat. The bedroom door possessed a lock, and as poor as her dexterity was, the little rotating dial inside the knob protruded just far enough that she could use it.

Now she was faced with the question: did she stay in her room, or did she unlock her door and see who was similarly awake at a freakish hour? Falling asleep right away was impossible, even if she was pleasantly warm and comfortable, where she was. She could try to practice drawing or attempt to read the alchemy book, but the main lights in the room were too bright for nighttime activity. The room had a lamp, but the tiny switch on it required a firm grip and the ability to exert enough force to maintain it while twisting; dexterity she did not have, even though the door lock used the same concept. Opening the window for moonlight was out of the question.

Investigating the activity in the living room, then.

She got up and re-shaped the blankets so that they remained in their doughnut shape, and took a minute or so to open the door, before she stepped into the hallway. Although she was no feline, she crept along silently, avoiding the boards that creaked on the floor, and peered around the corner. The room was dimly-lit by a lamp next to the sofa, and the coffee table was obscured beneath piles of what was probably official government documents. Maes Hughes held up one page, pinching his temples above the bridge of his glasses, frowning as he read it. He was dressed, wearing his uniform trousers, although his jacket was absent.

Karma considered returning to her room, seeing as the man was busy, but before she could do so, Maes noticed her out of the corner of his eye. She saw the exact moment when it happened, because a jolt went through the soldier. His face did not betray that she had startled him, but she caught it, either way. His smell told her she had unnerved him, just a little, with her sudden appearance.

“Karma,” He said, his voice admirably even, “What are you doing up?”

“I could ask you the same question. Most humans are usually asleep this early.” She did the mental separation again, she realized, a soon as the words left her mouth. She had spent a lot of time living with dogs and coming to think of herself as one, even though she knew her thoughts and emotions were more complex and inherently different from her pack. She had looked like one, and communicated with the same body language and vocalizations. Karma was still in the process of trying to retrain herself to look at herself in human terms. Her hands were hands, not paws, and humans were not a species separate from herself. Being a chimera did not negate what humanity she possessed.

There was an amused huff, and behind his glasses, Maes’ eyes crinkled at the corners, “Fair enough. The idea was to wake up around four and make the arrest before sunrise. Usually I don’t have a problem, but this case…it’s getting to me, a bit.” His behavior was far calmer than how he had acted during dinner the day before, Karma noticed. He had displayed a seemingly endless amount of energy, and kept up a constant stream of chatter throughout the meal, alternating between fawning over his wife and nagging at Roy about him needing to find a spouse, too. Occasionally, he had tossed a few questions her way, but as if sensing that she did not have the energy to keep up with him, he mercifully left her alone, for the most part.

“That’s understandable, all things considered. How long have you been awake?” She asked. Karma could have chosen to talk about the case, but thinking too much about where the soldiers would be going brought up memories she was not yet comfortable talking about in detail. Remembering the place she had escaped from left her feeling as if someone had doused her in oil, and she got a crawling, slimy sensation that felt deeper, as if it were permeating her being. Though she never lost awareness of where she was, she could almost smell the place. Urine and feces from animals, the stink of blood and rotten meat, so concentrated she could taste it on her tongue. The air was still, and heavy with the pheromones of distressed chimeras.

“Since about an hour ago,” He glanced at the clock on the wall, conveniently placed so nobody would ever go without knowing the time. “I gave up trying to sleep and went ahead and got dressed. I figure three hours is plenty of time to get caught up on paperwork.”

“Well, it’s certainly interesting waking up and finding out I’m not the only person who’s alert.”

Something sharper entered Maes’ expression, “You usually wake up in the middle of the night? What do you do, normally?”

“I don’t think I need to go into detail why I have sleep problems. There’s a whole list of causes you could probably guess without me saying anything. I usually just come in here and try to draw until I think I can fall asleep again. I can also try reading the alchemy book Roy gave me yesterday, but I’m not really making much progress with that.”

“Oh, so he’s trying to teach you alchemy? He never mentioned that. I personally can’t understand a word, when he starts talking about it.” She could tell that there had probably been many discussions where Roy and Maes had a breakdown in communication due to some sort of topic that the investigator could not follow. His tone was a mix of distain and fondness, because while he did not care for alchemy, he cared a great deal about his friend. “It’s a bit surprising, though, that you would want to learn,” He added, after a pause.

Karma tilted her head, at that, not sure how to respond, before she realized it was not necessary. The sound of a door opening drew her attention instead. Blinking drowsily, Roy, still wearing his sleep clothes, emerged from the hallway. He leaned against the wall and regarded them, not entirely awake, “What are you two doing up?” It was less a serious question, and more an expression of annoyance and resignment, because now he, too, was awake. When he got no response, he sighed, and started over to the kitchen, “I give up. I’m making coffee. Hawkeye can shoot me, I don’t care.”

“Roy, you didn’t tell me you were teaching Karma alchemy,” Maes got up from where he was sitting and trailed him over to where he was busy looking for the tin of coffee.

The Flame Alchemist gave his friend a look the chimera could not quite identify, “You must have been awake for a very long time, if you’re voluntarily bringing up alchemy.” He then rubbed his temples, clearly not yet alert enough to keep up with his friend at the moment. Although she truly felt bad about the fact that they might have woken him up—Roy had been looking tired for days—Karma was also grateful for his presence. Maes was a very nice man, but he was also, she decided, very _cunning_. She had the sense that he was trying to subtly get information from her, and instead of being able to have a truly pleasant conversation, it put her on guard instead.

This was frustrating; she was usually better at reading people than this. Just how bad was her cognition right now? Did this mean, had she not been starving, she could have skipped the whole ordeal at the vet? She could have actually found a way to escape the humans when they came looking for her at the dump? Karma felt stupid, and it was horrible because she knew she was smarter than this.

Unaware of her turmoil, the two men continued to talk.

“It’s only been an hour, Roy.”

“You’ve been awake since _midnight?”_ He turned his attention to Karma, “What about you?”

She snorted, “Maybe fifteen minutes? I told you I get sleep problems.” She sighed, then, “Uh, Roy, I hate to ask, and this is pretty off-topic, but…can I please get a new lamp whenever we go get supplies? I feel bad about asking, because they’re kind of expensive, but…”

He gave her a concerned look as he added grounds to the percolator, “What’s wrong with the one you have right now? Is the light dead?” Maes, meanwhile, was watching both of them intently. It only worsened Karma’s anxiety.

“Accessibility. I can’t use rotary switches.” She held up a hand and twisted it a little, “I usually pinch stuff between my toes—sorry, _fingers_ —or use my thumb, but I can’t do either because the switch on the lamp is too small. I can’t grip it effectively.” She felt guilty about asking for something like this, because while Roy was willing to help her redecorate her room a bit, there was no mention of making major changes to furniture or light fixtures. A chimera had nothing to offer him that would help with chores or finances, so it made her feel a bit more like a burden than she was happy with.

That was how she felt pretty often, whenever she was around adults. She was sure it was partly because of those years she had spent in the facility. Her parents had never made her feel like a burden, but she knew that institutions for orphaned youths were just taking care of kids out of obligation. Being constantly passed over in favor of younger children and infants had eventually led her to lose hope of adoption entirely. She had been fully-convinced that she would simply age out of the system and be turned onto the streets.

She still thought maybe aging out would be better than her current situation. Karma could not help that she had limitations due to her body, and it was far from healthy to see herself as a burden for wanting things to be accessible, but she felt rather useless in her current state.

The hunger was probably making her depressed. She had to remind herself that her mood was unstable. The sooner she regained some weight, the better it would be for everyone involved.

Maes spoke up, then, “The one in the guest room you gave us has a chain like the living room. You could swap them out.” He must have caught onto what she was feeling, somehow. She was grateful, though. Roy would not have to buy a new lamp if they just switched them. She sent him a grateful look.

“Well, that’s an easy fix, then. We’ll wait until later so we aren’t bothering Gracia. One of us might as well get a decent night’s sleep.” Roy set the percolator to brew the coffee, and went over to the placemat on the floor, apparently having decided to change Karma’s water dish so it was clean.

“You know if the bowl wasn’t breakable, I could probably figure out how to change the water myself.”

“I believe you, but I also think you would get your paws wet and track through the house.”

“ _Hands_ , Roy, I’m already struggling enough to keep my own terminology human without you making it worse.”

“Hands, then,” He amended, “I don’t know if Maes told you how we’re planning on doing things today?”

“You’re going to arrest the guy around…five, I guess?”

“Five-thirty, but close enough. It’s easier to catch people when they’re asleep, and we don’t want to take any chances with an alchemist. Just because he doesn’t specialize in combat doesn’t mean Tucker isn’t dangerous. We’ll get off earlier than usual, and Gracia is going to stick around today, so if you need anything, you won’t be by yourself.”

“My wife is amazing,” Maes declared, “And you should probably talk with her about what you like, she’s going to help out with the decorating tomorrow. Roy doesn’t usually worry about how things look, so I’m sure you’ll appreciate having Gracia’s input.”

Karma nodded slowly, “Alright, then.” She felt the subsequent silence far too heavily, “If nobody has anything else they want to discuss, I’m going to go read.”

Mercifully, the two men did not point out how awkward her exit from the kitchen was.

The team sent to arrest Shou Tucker consisted of Roy’s entire team, Maes, and several military police. There were a total of two cars, not including the van set up specifically for transporting prisoners. Everyone was armed, loosely surrounding the house just in case Tucker tried to run, although everyone was hoping for a quick resolution. They already had a search warrant for the house, so as soon as people took the alchemist to jail, they would begin looking for evidence connected to the disappearance of Bethany Tucker. Maes was able to say that for a man living on his own, Tucker had a rather large house, practically a mansion, by city standards. It would be fair to say that a good portion of the chimera researcher’s annual grant money went towards paying for his lifestyle, rather than his work.

Chimeras had always been a nasty topic, but he felt particularly disturbed by what he might see in the house, now. Karma had not made this easier, clearly trying to avoid talking about whatever her thoughts on the investigation were, beyond wanting Tucker off the streets. For her, the events were too close to home, and she had realistically not had any time to process what had been done to her in a healthy way. Being trapped in a cage for five months was a prolonged form of imprisonment, combined with likely dehumanization and isolation. Then she had been forced to starve on the streets and fend for herself, when she needed support and care. He could see her struggling to see _herself_ as human, and that was the worst thing.

The fact that Tucker might have transmuted his _wife_ , put her in a similar scenario, which left her so depressed that she lost the will to live, made Maes’ stomach do flips, and his heart clenched painfully. There were people that one could argue were sick in the head, but calling this man crazy would be an insult to the mentally ill. It was deliberate and evil, committing a terrible act with full knowledge of how wrong it was, and not caring. Maes differentiated between when someone was insane, and when they were immoral.

There would not be any insanity defenses given for this case that would stand during the court-martial. He would make sure of it.

Their first method for arresting Tucker was surprisingly mild, compared to the extremes people normally expected from the military. Standing behind Roy and Hawkeye, Maes watched as his friend reached up and rang the brass bell hanging next to the door. If Tucker answered and was not armed, they would simply arrest him when he came out to see who was there. If too much time went without a response, they would break it down and storm the apartment. It was ultimately better to lure a person outside, since there was less violence or risk involved for both parties.

As early as it was, there was a call, casual, from inside the house, “Coming, hold on!”

Perfectly calm, no idea what was about to happen.

The locks were undone, and the door swung open to reveal a man with sharp cheekbones and thin reddish-blonde hair, eyes hidden behind the glare of round lenses, “Ah, good morning, Lieutenant Colonel?” There was a question in his voice, as he took in the people present “What’s going on this— _hey! What?!”_ He was promptly grabbed by two military police officers, forcibly pulling his arms behind his back to handcuff him.

“Shou Tucker, you are under arrest in connection with the disappearance of Bethany Tucker. You have the right to remain silent, what you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be provided to you by the State.” Standard procedure, stating the rights of someone during the arrest. Sadly enough, this was more of a formality than anything else, because they had the samples and other data from the chimera that had been submitted for Tucker’s exam. A full report was being sent over from Central, but thus far, taped calls with the experts who had examined it had yielded suspicion of human anatomy.

There was a perfect paper trail of evidence that would hold up in court, thus far; all of it incriminating. The absolute best thing would be a confession, which Maes would certainly try to pry out of the man, but even if he did not, there were plenty of reasons to think that, at a bare minimum, there had been lies told about the components of the chimera. Lying on a State Alchemy exam alone would strip a person of their certification and warrant jail time, but they were still aiming for life imprisonment.

The chimera was supposed to be part chimpanzee, but even then, humans were still different from apes and monkeys, and the chimera researcher helping with the case—surprisingly nice, in a way that was almost shocking—claimed they were confident in their ability to identify human traits. _‘Humans have some funny anatomy about them. Apes and monkeys are apart from humans namely because of their big toes. The dental formula is the same, but there’s slight variation with an emphasis on front teeth and canines. I’ll be focusing on the fur texture; humans have the finest hair, so if the fur is similar to a human’s, that’s further evidence.’_

Maes had bumped into Karma by accident that morning; she had been very startled and had a rather menacing growl, as it turned out. Her fur was extremely soft, though, like silk. Or human hair.

Tucker, seeming to realize he was not getting out of this situation, immediately fell silent, lowering his head and allowing the officers to guide him down the path to the transport van. The sky was only faintly blue, the sun only just now attempting to rise. Without any sort of fight or difficulty, they had the Sewing-Life Alchemist in custody.

Maes turned to Roy, “Well, that went pretty well.”

“I’ll hang around for a bit and help you search the house, in case any arrays are lying around. I’m leaving it to you to investigate whatever research we find. It’ll probably be coded, but I’m good at deciphering them if you need assistance."

“I’ll hold you to that, then,” The investigator took it as a promise of sorts, before shouting to the rest of the people who came to help with the search warrant, “Alright! Search the house! Stay away from any alchemy arrays or chimeras! Come on!” While Roy led the arrest, Maes Hughes was the first person to enter the house.

Hawkeye partly drew her pistol, and everyone else tensed, with the scrabbling of nails on wooden flooring drew nearer, and small white puppy emerged, around a corner, barking at them. It seemed very young, but would probably grow to be very large, if the huge paws it was tripping over were any indication. The Second Lieutenant lowered her weapon and holstered it, “We’ll have to confiscate any animals on the property. Fuery.”

“Right!” Kain Fuery scrambled in past the three of them into the hallway and knelt down, the dog offering little protest when he hefted it up, “Oh, you’re a heavy boy, aren’t you…Alexander?” He read the name on the animal’s collar. The dog’s ears rose, and he cocked his head to one side sharply as the Sergeant continued to babble at him. There had been something distinctly different about Karma’s expressions from regular dogs, and Maes had not managed to place what it was, until just now. Dogs did have some ability to comprehend things, but the complete, knowing gaze that Karma had was very different from a dog that was trying its best to listen despite not understanding. The puppy knew his name, but had no idea what everyone was talking about.

Military police rushed past, fanning out into the first floor, while Maes took out his pistol, “I’ll check around upstairs.”

“We’ll take that staircase, then,” Roy nodded at a set of stairs off to one side that led downward, into what was probably a basement, “An underground room. Probably perfect for keeping chimeras…” There was a heaviness to those words nobody else would understand, save for maybe Maes himself and Hawkeye. “Hawkeye, keep your weapon drawn. We don’t know what we’ll find down there.”

“Sir,” The pair of them went downstairs and out of sight. Maes did not envy them.

The investigator focused his attention on the flight of stairs going up, slowly making his way up to the second floor, boots creaking on wooden planks, while people on the first floor continued to raise their voices to communicate between rooms. He had thought the house was rather messy and dirty, even at a glance, as if someone was neglecting to clean it. It was large enough to warrant a cleaning service, and dust was everywhere. One person could never maintain a home this big. The things he overheard confirmed his suspicions, painting a clear picture in his mind.

_“Found a library!”_

_“Any documents?”_

_“We’re looking!”_

_“Why is it so messy in here?”_

_“Oh my goodness, why are there so many spiders?”_

_“Just go through the boxes, here, I got a spare set of gloves!”_

He came into a hallway that seemed to have about five rooms, two on either side, and another down at the end, the open door revealing a large, rather luxurious bathroom. The lights were turned off upstairs, so it was dark, but he saw that one of the doors was open. When he moved closer, the distinct sound of shuffling hit his ears. There was a light thumping noise, like something had hit the floor.

Holding his breath, Maes reached out and pushed the door open further, and felt his heart freeze.

A little girl with long brown hair, probably no older than two, and frightened by the strangers in her house, was curled up in the corner, crying.

He had never hidden his gun from sight faster, and slowly approached, kneeling down a distance away, “Hey,” He tried to keep his voice as quiet as possible. In response to the sound of Maes’ voice, the child tensed and went still. “Are you okay?” He asked. There was almost no indication that this little girl had been living here, he could not help but think. No toys scattered around on the floor, no crayon drawings or doodles. The only evidence was in this pale pink bedroom, where the toys seemed to be placed on high shelves. He could make out the layer of dust on them even from a distance. The child could not reach them, and nobody had ever taken them down for her.

“I want Daddy…” Her voice, trembling, came out silent, “Daddy…”

The reports had never mentioned that Shou Tucker had a child. How they missed it, he had no idea. Tucker himself had not even mentioned that he had a daughter, which was horrifying, because that should have been a top priority. He knew that the girl was frightened, but he also knew that he could not afford to leave her here, in this house. “Hey, princess,” He tried again, “What’s your name?”

She sniffled, and when she lifted her head to wipe her eyes, he saw that they were blue, like her father’s, “…Nina…” She answered.

“Okay, Nina…Daddy’s going away for a bit…I’m a police officer, okay?” Technically, he outranked a police officer, but that was the term a very young child, even at this age, would hopefully understand. “I need you to come with me. Can you do that?”

Children rarely recognized the danger of a stranger trying to take them, but that was perhaps useful, for something like this, “Where we going?” That was a harder question to answer. Had they known, they would have made sure to arrange for someplace that Nina could have been taken, but this was short-notice and they did not have the time. That meant that the child would either have to stay with neighbors, or they would have to have one of the officers take her in, until more permanent solutions could be found. The decision would be difficult, because not everyone was trustworthy with children this small. Nina was perhaps the youngest child he had seen, yet, in a case like this.

Maes had to come up with an answer that would distract her, “To get ice cream,” He decided. A small detour, but worth the effort, if it persuaded her to come without feeling forced. If he could avoid causing distress, he would. “What’s your favorite flavor?”

“Chocolate…” She seemed to brighten, if only slightly, at the prospect.

“Well then you’ll get three whole scoops. How about that?”

“Okay…” She shifted, and held out her arms, ready to be picked up. Maes did so, mindful of the hidden daggers under his sleeves, and briefly thinking that children weighed more than they appeared to. Nina was not heavy, not really, but she felt far more important in his arms than anything else he had carried so far. She tucked her head into his shoulder, hiding her face, and he slowly made his way back into the hallway or downstairs; he would have to leave the searching to someone else.

Keeping Nina safe was his top priority, now.

The basement was, as he thought, where the chimeras were. It was so much worse than Roy had thought possible, knowing what he knew. Shelves filled with dead chimeras, organs, and body parts, floating suspended in jars. Row upon row of cages, stacked together, twisted creations crammed into spaces that left them no move to even more around. Misshapen, combined animals screamed and snarled at the humans through reinforced bars, claws stretching out from gaps, as if intending to catch them if they came too close. If Karma looked almost perfectly like a dog, Roy had no words to describe these chimeras, and the full weight of how dangerous being transmuted was struck him, full-force.

Some sort of overgrown rodent combined with a monkey gripped and rattled at its cage, fused together into a warped blob of fur, bearing three heads. The sharp, hooked claws on its limbs narrowly missed catching the slippery black tail of an amphibious chimera in the cage above it. It curled on itself, barely moving. It stared at them with uncomprehending eyes, almost apathetically. In a sealed container, a long, snake-like fish repeatedly rammed its head against the lid, but was unable to produce any force, crammed so tightly inside its prison that it could not even stretch to its full length. These were only a few of the sheer, horrific things that Shou Tucker had made.

Roy was struck by the smell of the room. It had been cleaned, that much was clear, but it still smelled heavily of animals and their waste. Although they had turned on a light when they entered, the chimeras had been left in complete darkness, unable to see. While some of them looked as if they had been fed, others were even worse than Karma’s state, and Roy could only imagine from their visible anatomy that something was terribly wrong with them, rendering them incapable of eating. Trapped down here, they were being kept for observation, and were slowly starving to death, cursed by a digestive tract that did not function.

Five months. Karma had lived in a place like this. No wonder she claimed she had not figured out the time until she escaped. How could anyone tell time in a room without windows or light?

Roy was tempted to burn these chimeras, not to be cruel, but because he knew that even when they were taken from Shou Tucker, they might not receive much better care in a government laboratory. Maybe their cages would be larger, perhaps, but he had little reason to think that, alone, made things better. Only a small number of them seemed to be in a form that did not cause pain or suffering. The fact that Karma felt no physical pain and had survived for the better part of a year in her body told him that she was extraordinarily lucky, if he dared to talk about the outcomes of a transmutation. He knew she strongly protested the prospect of being killed because of her state, and he respected that she had the ability to advocate for herself.

These creatures, though, made him consider it, and the way Hawkeye’s fingers twitched told him she felt the same.

The chimeras were not the only disturbing thing about this underground laboratory. Arrays were painted onto the walls and floor, some of them bearing obvious, disturbing imagery. One of them had an eye with lines falling down from it, and painted in a deep shade of red, it was strongly reminiscent of blood. Others had swirling lines or points, and Roy was cursed by his own knowledge of alchemy, mentally identifying at a glance where the animals would go, and where the resulting chimera would appear. The giant array on the floor, however, was the one that disturbed him the most; that was likely the one that Tucker had been using the most.

It made his mind flicker back to the human transmutation array, covered in blood and turning rancid. The Elric brothers were the only ones who were hurt in committing the taboo, but Roy was struggling to determine which sight was more horrifying. There was something so, deeply disturbing about this room. If Roy’s nightmares were haunted by images of burning corpses, sand, and a blazing sun, then a chimera’s nightmares must be of darkness and suffocating, stagnant air.

It made him sick to his stomach, and his heart ached like it was going to crack apart.

There was a desk at the far end of the room, and a pile of boxes filled with files. “I guess we know where he kept all of his research. There doesn’t appear to be anything dangerous in here, apart from what’s obvious.” He eyed a claw scratching deep marks into the hard flooring, the owner hidden in deep shadow. “We’ll have to call in another vehicle to transport the chimeras.”

 _“Yes, I did it. It works.”_ A voice had both of them whirling around, prepared to attack an intruder, before they realized what they were looking at. A snake covered with dark feathers, with the head of a crow or raven, tilted its head and blinked at them with beady eyes. It was inside a wire mesh cage, _“Hello.”_ Like a parrot, it babbled at them. _“Food!”_ It began repeating the word several times, bobbing its head in rhythm, before trying to poke its beak through the bars and escape, straining for a few moments. It had Shou Tucker’s voice.

It was not a chimera that understood human speech, but it was a bird that could mimic speech, and understand perhaps some amount of context for some of it. It was asking for food. When it spoke again, realizing it could not escape its prison, the voice that it used was higher-pitched, _“Daddy! Door!”_ It followed with a high-pitched, childish giggle, and then a series of yips that were clearly copies of dog barks.

Roy felt his blood turn cold.

“The reports didn’t mention that Tucker had any children, sir…perhaps an error.” Hawkeye noted, lowering her pistol. “We should take special note of this one. It might have heard something useful.”

 _“Repeat after me,”_ The chimera spoke in Tucker’s voice. Then, in a higher pitch, but not a child’s, a woman’s, _“It hurts.”_ As if it somehow knew what they were looking for, the animal tilted its head at them, as if thinking. Roy felt sick. He could tell from the way the Second Lieutenant tensed, she was thinking the same thing, that there had been a woman speaking that way down here, at some point.

“Noted. Hawkeye, don’t let them cart this one off with the rest.”

“Yes, sir.”

When the chimera started laughing again, this time in a deep, raspy voice, Roy was convinced that Shou Tucker was mocking him, somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think realistically, if Tucker had known people were going to visit his home, he would have quickly gone out of his way to eliminate the raven-snake chimera, because it repeats things he doesn't want people to hear. It's also possible though that by the time of FMA, the chimera passed away due to complications. As creepy as it is, I kind of have a slight attachment to it, because ravens are very smart. I figure the raven is going to get its revenge.
> 
> SCRIPT:
> 
> Roy: He had a child and didn't say anything?
> 
> Maes: Roy, keep it down, don't scare her. Also, before we head back to work, we're going to stop and get ice cream.
> 
> Roy: What?
> 
> Maes: I promised her three scoops of chocolate, she's getting it.


	11. The Bonds Connecting Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nina is escorted to Roy's home, and the Hughes family deals with the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who wanted to see Nina get adopted, Roy is not going to be her parent, but I do think that you'll be happy with what I'm setting up, at least. This chapter is sad, but does have some hints of happier times ahead. I just want to emphasize, while Nina is only two, and Tucker is a bit of a negligent parent beyond basic needs, she is still attached to him as a father. That means that being separated from him will hurt her, and I'm going to focus on this, because people don't talk about that much. Adoption is a theme in this story, but I really want to emphasize that it's not easy to adopt a kid. Being separated from a caregiver is traumatic for children, and they don't always bond right away with a caretaker. It is important to acknowledge that kids who need to be adopted often have baggage, and any kind of loss for especially young children is seen as abandonment. Adoptive parents have to deal with this baggage, and while some kids are mild, some have serious issues.
> 
> I just want to acknowledge this, because this information may hold true for both Karma and Nina--the latter of the two having to be separated from Tucker, because he can't look after her in jail. Karma might be older, but I think it's pretty clear she has problems.
> 
> Please enjoy this chapter.

One of the things Roy did not expect after arresting Shou Tucker was to wind up agreeing, at least until better accommodations could be found, to taking a two-year-old child into his home. His house was not childproofed, and although he did not consider himself parenting material, he knew, at a bare minimum, that open electric sockets in the walls could pose a serious safety risk. Something his aunt frequently recalled was that, when he was very young, he had been caught moments before he was about to stick a metal fork into one of them, which would have ended with him being electrocuted. He was perhaps lucky he did not decorate his home much, because otherwise, there might have been breakables lying around, too. He was probably missing some things, so he was grateful that Maes and Gracia were staying with him, because they would surely be better at preventing accidents.

He was momentarily glad that Karma was a teenager, and could be trusted not to injure herself if she was left alone. For all the difficulty Roy was having trying to ensure that she was well-cared for in her current poor health, she was a charge that demanded relatively little, and seemed content to entertain herself. Nina would probably be the opposite, constantly needing supervision and attention, and there was the additional risk that she would harass the chimera. Although Karma seemed fine with him and Hawkeye, for whatever reason, Roy noticed that she was distinctly uncomfortable around Maes and Gracia, though not due to any sort of dislike or hatred. He did not think she would do well around such a young child, and he would likely have to give her meals in a separate area, to avoid problems.

Regarding Nina, she was currently in the backseat of their car, sitting next to Maes, happily attempting to eat a three-scoop chocolate ice cream cone that was far too big for her to finish. Nobody commented on the fact that it was beginning to melt, and was now dripping down her hand onto the seats and floor mats. While the leather seating was easy to clean, it was still a dairy-based dessert, and if not removed from the car quickly, would begin to sour. “Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, while I am aware you are responsible for the investigation into Shou Tucker, I believe you should take the day off, until we can find a more permanent solution for where Nina will be staying.” Although it was not uncommon for her to make suggestions to Roy, it was rare for her to do the same with other officers. She kept her eyes on the road, although there was a brief moment where she looked at him using the rearview mirror.

“I think I’ll have to do that. My people will call me if they find anything,” Nina was off in her own little world, not paying attention to the conversation. Roy had to glance over his shoulder from the passenger seat to see what she was doing. “Roy, I’m holding you to your offer to help translate any alchemy jargon we find. We need an alchemist who can tell us if anything suspicious is present.” _You know more than a lot of people what we’re looking for_ , was the hidden message. After the war, Roy had been dangerously close to committing the same taboo as the Elrics. It was partly how he knew that the array in their house had been so dangerous, ignoring the large pool of blood. He knew enough about human transmutation, probably, to recognize a chimera array tailored for using humans.

They arrived in front of Roy’s apartment, and Hawkeye parked the car, “Someone needs to explain Karma’s situation.” There was no specific indicator who, but it seemed she was thinking the same thing as him. Nina needed to know that Karma had to be left alone, and whether or not the chimera was going to talk around her, or if she would pretend to be a dog, was anyone’s guess.

“Right,” Roy agreed, “I don’t know how she handles children.”

“I’ll take care of it, just head inside and warn her,” Maes told them, before turning to look at Nina, “Hey, Nina?”

The child paused mid-lick, “Yeah?”

“We’re here at a Roy’s house. We’re gonna go inside, okay? But I have to tell you something. I need you to listen. It’s _very_ important.” It was questionable how much someone so young would understand, but it was obvious that Maes was trying to simplify his sentences if he could.

Meanwhile, Roy got out of the car, Hawkeye remaining in the vehicle. He started over to the apartment and unlocked the door, finding Karma waiting near the door, while Gracia was sitting on the sofa, looking up from a book she had apparently been reading.

“Something happen?” Karma asked. They had said that they would be home earlier than usual because they started the workday early, but it had only been perhaps an hour since he had left. It was still rather early in the morning.

“Well, yes,” He noted. Gracia watched with interest but said nothing. “They missed it in the reports, I don’t know how. Shou Tucker had a daughter. Nina, two years old. We didn’t have arrangements for where she should stay as a result.”

Karma’s ears lowered a fraction, “She’s in the car isn’t she?”

Roy sighed and rubbed his temples, “Maes persuaded me to let her stay with us, since between him and Gracia, Nina will have plenty of supervision. It should only take a day for us to figure out where she belongs, so it won’t be forever. I do need you to eat your meals in your room, though, until then. You growl at people over food, and I know you don’t mean to hurt anyone, but we don’t need a little kid talking about that.”

The chimera nodded slowly, “Fair enough, we already switched out the lamps, so, I’ve got everything I need to stay out of the way. I guess he’s staying and you’re heading back to the office.”

“What do you intend to do when you’re in the same space? Are you going to act normal are or you going to be quiet, I think it’s fair that you inform us.”

“She’s only two, so I can probably get away with talking around her. She’s so young that she’s unlikely to clearly remember anything or put me at risk. The people working with her already know my secret. If she was older I would stay quiet, but for now we have an exception.”

It was at this moment that Maes came in, carrying Nina, who was getting some of her ice cream on his uniform jacket. It was perhaps a blessing that Amestrian military uniforms were actually easy to wash, and it was a simple matter to remove wrinkles with an iron. A fancier garment would have been ruined. There was a brief moment where Roy worried about his furniture and flooring, beyond the mess Karma made, simply from shedding. He then decided that he would not pursue that line of thought further.

“Alright, Nina, we’re staying here. See that lady over there?” He shifted the girl in his arms so he could hold her with one arm, and pointed at Gracia, “That’s my wife, she’s the best lady in the whole world.”

“She’s pretty!”

Roy was convinced that his friend and Gracia both instantly adored his child, “I _know_ , right?” Maes immediately agreed with the two-year old, and moved to set her down.

“Why, thank you!” The woman smiled at the girl, who slowly walked up to her, for the moment, occupied and leaving Karma alone.

Maes looked at the chimera, “I hope you don’t mind, but I told her that you were very sick and needed to be left alone. She’s a pretty bright kid, I think she understood.” Although realistically, she was not ill, so much as weak from starvation, the same implications that she could not play or do much remained. A child was unlikely to understand what starvation and malnourishment meant, beyond ‘she got sick because she was hungry, and now it will take a long time to get better.’

“It’s alright,” Karma told him, “Thank you.” She spoke quietly, as if trying to avoid being heard, in spite of her earlier statement. There was a slight hint of doubt in her expression, that it would work out completely, but Roy did not think Maes recognized it.

“Well, if there’s nothing else that needs to be addressed, I have to head back to the office. Hawkeye is waiting in the car.” Roy said, looking at Karma, “I’ll be back around lunch. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” She had felt guilty asking for a new lamp, even when her reasons were related to the fact that she was unable to turn it on because of the switch; she had seemed overwhelmingly relieved when the solution involved no spending at all. Roy had reason to believe that she would be more inclined to remain silent over things she needed. He had to accept that he was wholly responsible for her wellbeing, and he needed her to trust that he would take care of her.

Except orphanages probably taught kids their needs would not be met. Roy was working against at least two or three years of conditioning from an institution, plus almost another full year of unnatural circumstances. He really needed to research this better in his spare time. He knew about military strategy and climbing the ranks, not what life was like in an orphanage. He could only guess based on general information.

He gave everyone one last look, before turning and heading back out the door. Karma would be fine with Maes and Gracia alone, and the two would hopefully keep Nina from getting into trouble.

Napping at work, versus going over Shou Tucker’s notes, sounded _very_ appealing right now.

Because Nina was present, Gracia carefully handed off the beginner alchemy book to Karma, allowing her to take it in her mouth and carry it back to her room where it would not be damaged by the melting ice cream that the child was probably too full to finish eating. Roy would likely be bothered by the mess later if it was not mopped up; he seemed very fond of keeping his home clean. After failing the cognitive task of reading several times, Gracia had caught onto the fact that she was struggling, and had offered to help by reading the book’s passages aloud. While it was normal for Karma to be able to read, she had said, it was not necessary for her to constantly be confronted by the fact that her current functioning was below average. While the woman had professed that she would probably understand very little of the book’s contents, she was not opposed to helping if that was what Karma needed.

So Karma had sat in the living room, while Gracia spoke aloud passages from the book, sometimes repeating sentences if the chimera needed to hear them again, but otherwise, allowing her to make far more progress than if she had been alone. While reading words was an issue, she had no trouble with pictures, and now knew some of the basic aspects of alchemy and how transmutation circles were designed. The classical elements of earth, water, air, and fire had shapes assigned to them, and later on, specific elements had symbols unrelated to the periodic table. Classical alchemy, though, did not apparently cover all elements in existence, and some discussed compounds or concepts versus pure elements.

The reason alchemy could become special, powerful, or more tailored, was clearly linked to an alchemist’s capabilities to envision a final product, and working knowledge of something’s structure on an atomic level, designing and using arrays depending on this information. Without understanding of the process, arrays would generally not work. While alchemy was not taught in public schools, chemistry was beneficial, and thus, Karma already had some level of understanding of the subject. She would probably have to memorize the periodic table and elemental properties to perform alchemy, at a bare minimum whatever she was working with.

She could do this. She _could_. Although she knew, already, that actually performing a transmutation, at least in her current state, was probably unlikely. She had trouble holding pens steady enough to draw perfect enough circles, and although there was no reading involved, she had no idea if she could manipulate molecules, the way her focus was.

If she did decide to perform alchemy, it needed to be a non-hazardous array involving a transmutation that would do nothing, should she fail, versus something dangerous that would cause a rebound. _That_ was perhaps the ominous part about alchemy; certain kinds of transmutations could actually harm the alchemist. It took several forms, the most common one being unstable elements or compounds reacting wrong. Beyond rebounds, transmuting anything pulled some amount of energy from the alchemist, with some people being heavily drained by the process. In some cases it was possible to faint from the exertion. The last thing she needed was to attempt messing with something that did that, when she had no energy already.

Even so, she felt far less frustrated, actually having made progress with Gracia’s help, versus simply agonizing over one or two passages without properly absorbing the knowledge.

When Karma set the book down on top of the low dresser in her room—she did not wear clothes, so it was unlikely she would fill it with what it was intended to hold—she became aware of the fact that she had been followed. “Something you need to discuss?” She asked, aware from the sound of footsteps that it was Maes before she even registered his scent. She had learned years ago that it was possible to distinguish people by the sound of their movement. It was not by any means a perfect system, but had been a useful skill to develop in the facility. There were some people, she had concluded, she did not want to be alone with for any period of time.

“Just seeing if you were getting along with my lovely wife,” He said cheerily, smile audible even if she was not looking at him. “Nina seems quite attached already.”

“Gracia helped a great deal. I don’t think she understood all of it, but she read the book aloud so I’m not having to put up with my…cognitive block, I guess.” She looked at him properly, “I’m sorry if it seems like I’m avoiding you. I’m not getting…flashbacks or anything, at least I wouldn’t call them that, but…talking about this case you’re working on….it’s…bringing up a lot of stuff I don’t like thinking about.” And that was the truth, because the awkwardness initially was fine, but it had dragged on rather than dissolving. She was fine with Gracia and Roy, but it was hard to talk to the person who was going to ultimately get Tucker off the streets.

Rather than seeming annoyed or frustrated, Maes’ expression was one of understanding, “Even if you’ve thought stuff over, it doesn’t mean you like remembering it, right?”

“I’m not there anymore, and as much as I’d love for that guy to be gone, too, I think it’s safer to avoid drawing attention from bigger fish.” Her snout wrinkled slightly at the memory, before her expression smoothed out. “It’s not fair. That kid’s paying for what someone else did.”

“I don’t know how much she’s really losing, to be honest,” He made his way over to her bed and sat down, folding his hands together, “If I hadn’t found her hiding in her room, I would’ve thought Tucker was alone. He didn’t even mention her when we arrested him, can you believe that? And her room had dust and the toys were all out of reach, like he never played with her.”

Karma’s ears lowered slightly, “She’s only two, you’re supposed to pay constant attention to kids that little.”

“I really wonder if we can add child neglect to the list of charges, just to be sure if he ever gets released, he can never have custody again, but he didn’t hurt her, so I don’t know if that’s possible.” Maes thought aloud, before focusing on Karma, “She needs to go to a place where someone’s really going to give her the love and care she deserves.” For some reason, that statement made her heart twist, and momentarily, she felt like she could not breathe.

Nina screamed and began crying very loudly in the living room. _“Where’s Daddy? I want Daddy!”_

Maes stood abruptly from the bed, horrified.

“You better go help Gracia.” Nina was going to be traumatized, Karma knew. There was absolutely no way of avoiding it, even if she was quickly settled with a proper caregiver. That was the reality of little kids losing their parents when they were already attached. If Tucker had never been outright abusive, Nina had no reason, in her own mind, for why she could not be with him. She would be distressed by his absence, and there were few explanations that could be given to a child so young that would be understood or accepted.

Maes swiftly left the room, politely closing the door behind him, and Karma took a deep breath. She should probably do something, right? The original plan was to avoid the child, but to little kids, she was a dog. She thought she had smelled a dog on Nina, too, and in spite of the fact that the girl had been told she was sick, it was possible she was unnerved by being around people that were not familiar. Little kids probably were not as liable to be afraid of her.

…Should she do something?

…No…Nina had to latch onto _humans_ for comfort. Not a dog or a chimera who was bound to secrecy. Even if Karma could speak, she could do nothing for her, not like the people with her now.

She wished she could do more.

Maes would have expected Nina to reject being held or comforted, in favor of trying to find the father that she had realized was absent. He knew that this might happen, the little girl becoming distressed, but having knowledge that nobody familiar was coming that he knew of to take her home, was what made it particularly horrible. Hearing a child so upset was shredding at his heart, already. The possibility that she might not have anyone at all was what made it even worse. She had an aunt in prison, but she would not be deemed suitable as a guardian, nor was she set to be released in the near future.

Maes was dreading that phone call. Did the woman even know that she had a niece?

Nina, rather than fleeing from him or Gracia, clung to his wife as if that would somehow solve her problems, burying her face in his beloved’s dress, weeping. Crying was not a pretty thing with small children, with large tears and mucus dripping from the nose, a complete mess with inflamed eyes and skin, blotched red. She had dropped the melted remains of her ice cream on the floor, thankfully missing the sofa, but her hands were dirty, and would probably stain the pale pink fabric she was gripping with white knuckles. Although it was muffled, she was practically screaming into Gracia’s stomach, somewhat comforted by her hold, but not entirely.

His wife looked at him, silently asking what they should do about this situation. Did they just wait for her to calm down and fall asleep? That was usually how this worked, except the situation was more serious, and a two-year-old had no idea how to process this situation.

He sat down next to them on the sofa, taking off his glasses and setting them down on the coffee table, for the sake of preventing them from being snatched off of his face or damaged in some way. His vision was not great, but for all the blurriness, he could still see things close-up to an extent, and when was sure Nina would not do something like attempt to hit him, he would put them back on. “Hey, princess,” He kept his voice gentle, and the child stiffened, before sobbing even louder.

After a few moments, she lifted her face away from Gracia, looking only at an angle, not at him directly. “I…I w-want Daddy…where is Daddy?” There was no easy way to explain to someone with such limited comprehension or grammar what was going on.

“Daddy’s away, Nina,” He told her, “He can’t come back.”

“Make him come back!” He wished this could be easier, as she turned to face him fully, still clinging with one hand to Gracia’s dress, held in her arms.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that.” Maes tried to make it as empathetic as he could, but it sounded wrong even to his own ears, and that was probably because of his words, rather than his tone.

“Why not?!”

He could not tell her in a way that she would understand, so he settled with something else. “I can’t,” He told her. “You have to stay with us.”

Rather than argue further, Nina simply dissolved into more horrible sobbing, “Daddy…” It turned into a high-pitched, broken whimper that hurt far more than any sort of clear wailing, as if her throat were raw. Tentatively, he reached out a hand, not sure what would happen, and the little girl grabbed it, her fingers only going half across his palm, at best. She was so small. Maes shifted closer, so that it was less awkward, and that…seemed to help, somewhat.

Gracia stroked her hair, and she allowed it, “Shhh….” She shushed her, not saying it would be alright, but trying her best to offer comfort.

They did this for a long time, Maes was not sure how long.

By the end, Nina, exhausted, possibly dehydrated and feeling sick from tears, slowly grew quieter, and slept. So little was said, but the child’s reaction was one of acceptance, and somehow, that made it worse than if she had been older, and inclined to call them liars. The ease with which she believed them and accepted them holding her made Maes wonder if it was like this for all children so small, or if it was just how little Tucker had paid any attention to the little girl.

Gracia let out a quiet breath, and leaned her head against the back of the sofa, “…What if they can’t find someone?” She asked, her voice more air than sound, as he put his glasses back on, which would hopefully alleviate the headache from not wearing them.

“Then…she’ll get sent to a facility…” Maes hated how quiet his voice was, but he did not want to wake her.

“…That’s…Maes…” She closed her eyes and lowered her head until she was hunched over, her forehead almost touching Nina’s. “…I can’t watch that…”

He was quiet, for a while, before he breathed in, trying not to let his anxiety show, “…If…nobody comes for her…it’s that…or…someone adopts…”

“… _We_ could do it, Maes.”

“…We don’t know if she’s got family that can take her, though.”

“I’m saying we could do it. Maes, we’ve… _wanted_ a child, but…if she needs someone…”

It was an impulse, they had no idea what they were getting into, but this was perhaps the closest either of them had ever been to a case like this. Maes was always unable to say no to his wife, “…I can’t promise anything…but… _if_ …it gets to that point…we can try to foster….and…maybe from there…but you know it’s not going to be easy, right? We’re strangers.” They would not be Mom and Dad, not to Nina, and if she called them that, it would hardly be right away. There was no guarantee it might work. Maes knew what trauma did to people, and this would hurt her. “We don’t even know if it’ll turn out that way.”

“…I know…but…” She stroked the girl’s hair and sighed, “I…don’t think I can forgive myself.”

Maes, though he did not say it, knew his thoughts would show on his face. He did not think he would be able to forgive himself, either, if an orphanage was where Nina was sent. He just hoped that this would not be a mistake, that it was the right thing to do.

Karma was right.

Children should not have to pay for what their parents did wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SCRIPT
> 
> (Evidence Area)
> 
> Officer 1: Uh...hey...wasn't a snake...crow...parrot-thing supposed to be in this? *Pokes open, empty cage.
> 
> Officer 2: It got out. My commanding officer is going to kill me. The Lieutenant Colonels are going to kill me.
> 
> Officer 1: It got loose.
> 
> Officer 2: Yes, I must have left open the cage after I fed it. Please help me find it! It's evidence!
> 
> Officer 1: How is a freak of nature evidence?
> 
> Officer 2: It talks and says stuff!
> 
> (Roof of East Command)
> 
> Chimera: *Cackles*


	12. Messy Transitions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy breaks the code for Shou Tucker's research, and learns the disturbing history of his work. Maes and Gracia attempt to look after Nina.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't one of my favorites, but it would be extremely awkward if I skipped it, so here it is. In the next few chapters we will have a timeskip for the story, since the whole thing isn't meant to revolve around Karma's poor health and sickness. It's just that, being so close to a bunch of things while living with Roy, it takes me a lot more writing to set things up, versus where I could have things happen in the background without making a mess in the story.
> 
> I think Maes might be a little unusual in his character in this chapter, but I do have a reason for it. Maes and Gracia are not currently parents right now, so I think them not entirely knowing or being prepared for Nina is realistic. During a pregnancy you would have time to do your homework. Nina was completely unexpected and is right there, already, so they're new to anything parenting-related. Also, Maes, as a character, tends to try and focus on the positives, and to an extent, this is also his way of coping with things that bother him. I feel like, when faced with something he truly can't avoid, and it affects other people, it would probably bother him or put him at a loss.
> 
> Hence my reason for writing this way. Hope everyone enjoys it. The next chapter will be a lot nicer. This one is just a bit awkward. The title is a reference to how a lot of stuff doesn't really seem that harmonious for our characters, but I realize afterwards that it could also be taken literally in the scheme of writing.

The code for Shou Tucker’s research notes proved easy to break, and once Roy Mustang figured out how to read them, an entire story—a proper, horrific tale befitting of a monster—was spelled out in alchemic jargon.

The chimera researcher, from the beginning, had been fascinated with the end result of combining different animals, sometimes with little rhyme or reason beyond seeing if two creatures would be compatible. He would select species with drastically different physiology and transmute them together, keeping the resulting creation for observation, and timing how long it would survive. As a result of Tucker’s early experiments of combining mice with crickets, perhaps hundreds of notes detailed malformed chimeras that perished mere seconds or minutes after formation. The ones that were alive for longer were described as _thrashing, screeching as if possessed, and chewing at their own limbs._ Though there was no mention of the cause of these behaviors, Roy knew that they must have been in excruciating pain.

Following his tests of the limits of what could be combined and still survive, Tucker began focusing on something else: intelligence. There were notes on the varying forms found amongst animals, from language comprehension to self-awareness, and what species were most similar to humans. Primates, specifically apes, stood out, but interestingly, there were also mentions of crows, ravens, and magpies. There was a point where Tucker attempted to create a chimera capable of understanding human speech through legitimate means, by combining these animals together to gain an ideal mix of traits. There was a limit, however, to how much progress could be made this way, as even the most intelligent of animals were comparable only to human children.

The feathered-snake hybrid that was taken as evidence from Shou Tucker’s lab, as it turned out, would not be necessary in order to convict him. Soon after a variety of failed experiments that only yielded animals communicating like parrots, Tucker’s notes took a distinctly illegal turn. He seemed to give up, entirely, on studying animal cognition, and began focusing on the need for more funds, as obtaining larger animals was a massive investment he could not afford. His attention was less scientific, and more reminiscent of his early experiments, transmuting things simply for the sake of seeing if it could be done.

Roy had to stop partway through, when a human subject was plainly identified. _Homo Sapiens, human female, age 23._

Tucker never mentioned his wife’s name, nor her relation to himself and his young daughter, who was probably barely past infancy. Bethany Tucker, in her own husband’s research notes, was identified as a human female, but in spite of this clear, incriminating evidence, it seemed like she had been reduced to nothing more than a lab specimen. The way it was written in Tucker’s notes, she was stripped of any worth as an individual or person, seen as nothing more than a means to an end. The resulting chimera was probably not given any better treatment, despite being the ‘success’ the alchemist had desired. The very thing he had submitted for his certification.

Normally, even as horrible as it was, Roy would have been able to read through it without stopping. He had killed countless innocent people; women, men, and children, regardless of whether or not they had raised a weapon. Someone like himself should have faced a single atrocity like this and thought _I am worse_. Instead, in a private room in East Command, he felt as if his heart were being constricted. A scream, whether it was a cry of anguish or rage or pain, he was not sure, became trapped in his throat, and nothing more than a shaky breath came out. Roy had never looked at his victims as inhuman, or tried to reduce what they were worth, beyond what it took to keep his sanity. He had almost ended it after the war, and had thought during the process he should burn himself alive. He would have deserved it.

The fact that Shou Tucker barely acknowledged what he had done, in spite of knowing fully-well that it was wrong, that was what probably made it so sickening. He was too close to this, too; he was looking after a victim of a crime, just like this. Roy did not know everything that Karma had been through, and he hardly knew the chimera, when she was not functioning at her best and she had only been with him for a week, but it still bothered him. The knowledge that she might have endured such similar treatment, the proof such a mentality could exist, explained so much. Karma constantly voicing a need to be perceived as human, and referred to in human terms, _hands, not paws_ , made so much sense now.

Shou Tucker would go to prison for the rest of his life, they had all the evidence they needed right here, but it brought Roy only a minimal amount of comfort.

That was when there was a loud _bang,_ two military police running into the office without even knocking, or so much as saluting a superior officer, when they began looking around frantically. There was not much in this communal office, which doubled as a sort of conference room. It had the same polished green floors as the rest of the building, wooden planks extending partway up cream-painted walls. The only furniture present was an old red rug, two sofas, a low table, and the desk he was currently sitting at, by the windows.

Roy bristled at the lack of respect, “Can I _help_ you, gentlemen?” His tone effectively conveyed his irritation.

They both realized what they had just done, something that would warrant disciplinary action, and turned to salute him. “S-sorry Colonel! We’re on an urgent search throughout the building, we meant no disrespect!” One stammered at the start of his sentence.

The other followed, “One of the strange creatures that was taken in the Shou Tucker case as evidence has gotten loose, sir! The officer on-duty watching the evidence room reportedly forgot to close the cage door after feeding it!” Both of them had broken out into a nervous sweat, although they had already clearly been running around long before that. They were both breathing hard, in a way that only physical exertion could produce.

Part of Roy was tempted to scold them, but then again, this room was not a normal private office, and sometimes, people did have a habit of closing the door when it was supposed to remain open if vacant. In short, the pair barging in on him was an honest mistake, made because they were currently looking for a strange animal that running loose in the building. He sighed with frustration, and pinched his temples, “Which chimera was it?” He asked.

“A-ah…a…feathered snake that has a raven’s face, sir.”

Of course it was. He already knew from the notes, while it was labeled as a failure by Tucker’s standards, the chimera was arguably one of the most intelligent of his nonhuman creations, and perfectly capable of surviving so long as it had food and water. Although it was an animal, chasing it around East Command would effectively be like playing hide-and-seek with a seven-year-old human child, with none of the playfulness. Everyone was lucky, however, in that the chimera was not incredibly dangerous. It had no venom and could not fly. Though its appearance might incite panic and it did have a rather sharp beak, it could not seriously harm anyone.

Why was it, that as soon as Karma stole his glove that fateful night, Roy found himself dealing with all sorts of bizarre, animal-linked nonsense? He knew the chimera herself was not an animal, but her friends were, and apparently, the trend was not going to end, any time soon.

He glanced up at the clock, realizing that it would not be long before he was supposed to leave and return home. Although under normal circumstances, he might have enlisted his team to help in the chase, he had three guests staying at his home, and a charge that was still very weak and needed consistent, reliable care in order to recover. There was also the issue of Nina Tucker, in addition to everything else they had to worry about. He had been forced to deliver bad news before, but this was still not something he wanted to do. He was dreading going back, when the case had been relatively easy to solve. They only needed the experts inspecting the remains of the suspect chimera to confirm what the notes claimed.

Sighing, Roy rose up from his desk, “Before everyone panics, let people know that I’ve read the documents related to that chimera. It’s not venomous or a major threat to anyone in the building. You can keep looking for it, but I don’t think barging into the rooms of your superiors will be of any benefit.” He narrowed his eyes at them, “You’re lucky I’m only letting you off with a warning.”

The two saluted him, “Thank you, Colonel!”

When they departed, closing the door behind them, Roy sat back down at the desk and pillowed his head in his arms, before sitting back up and rubbing his temples. He had not been getting much sleep, lately, and although he was used to it, a full week of issues was still abnormal. When he had trouble resting at night, he would generally sneak naps during lunch or whenever Hawkeye was not looking, but he had felt too restless, lately, to do even that. He was going to get sick, at this rate, he could tell he was slowing down and needed time to recover.

Thank goodness tomorrow was an off-day meant to revolve around a happy occasion. He needed it as much as Karma did, by this point.

It then occurred to him that his aunt was probably wondering why he was not interacting as much with his information network. She would have found out from his cancelled dates that he was looking after a new dog, and the longer he put it off, she would start to get annoyed, why he was not telling her directly.

He was going to have to introduce Karma to his aunt and sisters, eventually. It would become needlessly complicated if he did not tell his family.

…Later, not now. His aunt would not be happy with him, but the chimera struggled already with the Hugheses, and was not ready to go to the Mustang equivalent of a family gathering. Roy did not think she could handle being around so many people at once, especially since his sisters would probably want to smother her with displays of affection. Karma was still uneasy with physical contact, much like a feral dog even a week later, and he wanted her to be in better health before putting her through even more stress.

He knew he would have to tell them, eventually, though.

Life was really complicated, these days.

Karma wandered around the apartment like a ghost when she did not stay in her room, avoiding Nina, specifically, and Maes and Gracia by association. Although the little girl recovered quickly from an initial fit of tears, the chimera knew it was far from over, watching from a distance. Her hunch proved correct when on two more separate occasions, the child would have meltdowns. Each time she would call for her father, and have to be told that she could not go back to him. The chimera could see how the Hugheses’ hearts broke a little more each time. Nina was too young to understand what was happening, and very few people knew how to explain things like death or permanent separation to a toddler.

With the two adults in the house devoting most of their attention to Nina, and Karma feeling that she should not interfere in things, she had the strangest sense of being alone, even though when it was just her in the house, it never bothered her. It was probably because she was used to doing as she pleased wherever her range or territory was, and suddenly, she had to worry about avoiding someone in an enclosed area. She did not want a little girl seeking her out for comfort, even though dogs were supposed to be excellent at providing it, and so she did what she could to prevent such a thing from happening.

Karma was leaving terrible impressions, lately, on a lot of people. She was getting regular meals and a safe place to sleep at night, she was _clean_ , but at the same time, she felt strangely powerless. She had not left Roy’s apartment in a week, and she was used to roaming huge areas within East City every night. Part of her itched to wander off on her own.

When Roy came home from work, rather than waiting right by the entrance, Karma was peering out into the living room from the hallway leading to all of the bedrooms. Nina was, for the moment, entertained by Gracia telling some popular children’s stories that people could learn by heart. Sadly enough, it seemed as if the little girl was not familiar with half of them, which was yet another testament to how absent her own father was, even when he was responsible for her. It was perhaps a matter of time, though, before Nina began crying again. Coping with something like this was much like grief, and would play out over days, weeks, or even months and years. It would not be over in just a few hours.

“Well, I’m officially off of work for today,” Roy declared, looking exhausted, and hanging up his coat.

Maes walked up to him, regarding his expression thoughtfully, before speaking, “You’ve got bad news.” He concluded.

The Flame Alchemist sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose, “I’ve made your job easier, Maes, I’ve found solid proof of guilt in the Tucker case…but…” He drifted off.

“What, Roy?” His friend pressed.

The alchemist gave another heavy sigh, “We couldn’t find anyone.” He jerked his head in Nina’s direction, to indicate who he was talking about. “She’s got family, but…they aren’t fit to be guardians. She’s going to have to go to a facility.” Although Roy had initially called such places orphanages, he had quickly switched to using the same terminology as Karma, after only a day or so. Many children sent to such places, contrary to popular belief, actually did have living relatives, and only about a quarter or so were actual orphans. While Karma counted as a true orphan, having no living relatives, Nina was an example of what was more common. Her remaining family was either unfit or unable to care for her.

Nina was young and impressionable. A facility would ruin her. The worst children in such places were the ones that had been there from an early age.

Maes’ brow furrowed, “Gracia and I were talking, Roy…and we had a serious discussion. We decided, we’re too close to this to not do something, if nobody could be found. She’s a good kid, and she deserves better.”

Roy’s eyes widened slightly, “You’re going to adopt her,” He said, not angry, so much as disbelieving.

Karma’s ear twitched; a very impulsive decision. Adopting was not the easier choice. Did they entirely understand what they were getting into? It would be good for Nina, but adoptive parents, as far as she could tell, rarely understood the work and effort that often came with a child that was not born to them. This was not the same as a child who was part of your family by birth, with a blood relation, no matter how much she wished it did not matter. There would be baggage, and they would not immediately have the luxury of a proper bond.

Roy visibly thought this over, trying to figure out a response, before his eyes drifted to Karma, “What do you think?” He asked, “You lived in a place like that.” It surprised her, somewhat, that he was asking her opinion.

Maes whirled around, “Yikes, Karma, I didn’t even know you were there.” In truth, she had not been making any effort to hide from him, so she did not think what she was doing counted as eavesdropping, so much as watching from afar. She supposed, though, after constantly having to sneak around in order to find food, she had started doing it unconsciously, trying to make her footsteps as quiet as possible.

The chimera was frozen, for a few moments, before sighing through her nose, coming to stand in front of the two men. “You can’t adopt her right away, so try to get approval to foster her, first. Then adopt her after that. That way, she’s living with you already and doesn’t have to go through being resettled multiple times.” Her snout wrinkled slightly, “You have to tell her about why she can’t go back to her father, also. You don’t have to go into the gory details, but you can’t leave her without an answer. Don’t lie, either. Never lie.”

The investigator’s expression was one of reserved sadness, and Roy gave off a similar mood, even if his face remained neutral. “She’s going to cry,” Maes said, his voice quiet. Karma could hear in his voice how much he hated the idea. “She’s cried a lot, today.” There was the faintest waver at that statement, like his heart was grieving.

What Karma had judged about Maes Hughes, was that he liked to focus on the positives, and completely ignore the negative side of things, if possible. Something like this would be especially hard for him, because he was not being given room to handle things the way he normally did. “She’ll think it was her fault, if you don’t make it clear that it isn’t,” She told him. “I’ve seen it happen. You’re trying to prevent that.”

He sighed, “…After dinner, then…we’ll…” Even a man like Maes could have things that put him at a loss, it seemed. “We’ll figure it out.”

“There’s some other details, but that can wait,” Roy said, before glancing over at Nina, who had barely acknowledged his presence, “Seems like you’ve both been getting a bit worn down. I know you brag about Gracia’s cooking, but I don’t think either of you would object if I suggested getting takeout?” Karma thought at least partly, it would apply to the alchemist, as well. He had faint circles under his eyes, and she knew it was mostly her fault. He was having difficulty adjusting to looking after her, even if their coexistence, so far, had been mostly peaceful.

“Well, I think that would probably be great. Gracia’s much better at calming her down than I am. Nina’s more important.” Karma had trouble connecting the enthusiastic man who gushed with adoration for his wife with the serious military officer standing in front of her right now.

Roy returned his attention to the chimera, “It’s still a bit early for your meal, Karma, so you’ll have to wait. It’s a good thing tomorrow they said you could start having larger portions. We might not have to be so rigid about when you eat.”

“I’m pretty interested in finding out when you think it’ll be okay for me to go out on a regular basis, Roy. You know I can’t just stay locked up in here all day while you’re at work. I’m kind of going a little stir crazy right now.” She shifted on her paws— _hands_ —a little.

“That’s fair enough, you’re used to covering…how much of the city in a day?”

“Well, measure the distance from the dump to here. I did that pretty often. I mean not in this specific direction, but, in summary. Wherever I thought I’d find food.”

“We’ll look into it when your weight is a bit less…” He drifted off, trying to find a word that sounded tasteful.

“Emaciated?” Karma suggested, “Yeah, I know, it doesn’t look good dragging a severely underweight dog around. It’d look bad. I get it. But seriously, my own personal solution is to run loose, and I’m not supposed to be a stray anymore. Unless you’re dragging me to work, I’ve got no better options. I don’t know that you’d want me hanging around inside the office either. One of your guys is stared stiff of dogs.”

“Well, I might have to take you in, one day. They keep asking how you’re doing. Even Breda, surprisingly enough. After your stunt that one day, everyone is a bit curious.”

Karma’s ears lowered, “Are you _trying_ to make me dread it?”

“Perhaps,”

“You’re just trying to make me suffer because you have to deal with paperwork,” She concluded.

Maes, in spite of his troubled silence, heard the remark and snorted. “Only a week and she’s got you figured out, Roy.” At that, the alchemist shot his friend an annoyed look, “You keep complaining about your own paperwork building up. You’re hardly one to judge.”

“Oh, no, my own failures do not negate yours, I’m afraid,” Karma was suddenly glad she was currently missing a filter for her thoughts, to some extent. The two of them debating over paperwork would keep the investigator from shutting down or running away from the situation. Young children were far more perceptive than people gave them credit for, and it would be bad if Maes seemed upset long before he had to tell Nina about the situation.

That was when Karma felt something bump into her leg.

She looked down, and saw that Nina had somehow crossed the room, and was staring up at her with wide eyes, chubby arms wrapping around the limb. “Teddy!” She declared.

Although Karma’s laughter, in her brain, was now wired to make her tail wag, sometimes she could still laugh like a human, if it was forced or hysterically upset, rather than happy. She did not consider it to be her true laughter, though, because it sounded nothing like her human-self. Even so, she had to stop herself when Nina made her judgement. ‘Teddy’ as in a teddy bear. She was part bear. The sheer accuracy hurt.

“Well, it looks like you’re Teddy, now, Karma.”

Nobody moved to dislodge the two-year-old, leaving Karma wondering if she should try to keep walking around, and if so, if Nina would let go, or continue to cling to her like a squirrel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will skip Nina learning about her father's arrest, since the worst of things has technically already happened since her first meltdown the previous chapter. We will see some amount of aftermath, but keep in mind, she is two years old, and while she will suffer some level of shock from the separation, Tucker was also a somewhat absent father, in a sense. Maes and Gracia are extremely attentive, by comparison. The next chapter will be a somewhat happy one.
> 
> Is anyone else wondering where that feathered chimera is going? Where it'll end up? You know this isn't the last we've seen of it. Like anyone have any headcanon ideas for its adventures?
> 
> SCRIPT:
> 
> (A roadside has a pile of birdseed dumped on the ground. A feathery black snake with the face of a bird has joined a group of pigeons, and is eating the seeds)
> 
> Meanwhile in East Command...
> 
> Soldier 1: I found a feather in the air vent over here!


	13. Clairvoyance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On his off day, Roy goes to get supplies for Karma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a weird chapter here, but once we get past these rough patches, I think it'll be really great from then-on. Expect to see a timeskip after this one.
> 
> Also, for those who don't read this fic's twin, Patchwork Guardian, the collar that Karma wears will always be a very significant thing. Although it's normally viewed as a sign of ownership and is frowned upon initially, it also becomes a distinct trademark of sorts for the character, so it's important. Karma's collar will become significant, just as Bunny's does in the other story. This will also be the primary thing that allows you to tell Bunny and Karma apart, since they're the same root character.
> 
> Also, since we didn't get much of it, some Nina-Karma interaction, because she's not actually bad with kids and I want to establish that, and Karma is going to start showing signs of recovery with her cognition, this chapter. I feel like while certain aspects of her health are still poor, the cognition would suddenly get better like a switch got flipped.

Karma was woken by the sound of a creaking wooden floor, and opened one eye to peer into the gloom of the living area, where she had agreed to sleep so that no human would go without a bed. In the pale moonlight filtering through a crack in the window, she could make out a small shape watching her from around the corner of the hallway. Her eyes, adapted to the darkness, allowed her to pick out the faint gleam of tears trailing down the little girl’s face. Even without the visual signs, the smell of salt and sorrow were unmistakable. In spite of this, however, Nina did not make a sound, compared to the screaming and wailing from earlier. This was a silent form of distress, no less real, but kept hidden. That meant she would probably not respond well to the adults.

Well, it looked like Karma would have to become involved, regardless of her efforts to keep her distance. She could not do it half-way, so she might as well be thorough in how she handled this.

When the chimera lifted her head, she heard a sharp inhale, and although the child jolted slightly, she did not flee. Karma regarded Nina for a few moments, before tilting her head to one side, “You are awake,” She said, keeping her voice quiet. Although she had just woken up, Karma was used to regularly being disturbed from sleep by her nightmares or hunger, and thus, was quick to become alert. “Why?” Although she suspected she knew why, sometimes, leaping to conclusions hurt more than it helped, especially when feelings needed to be placed in the open.

“…Daddy was bad…” A simple statement, with a great deal of weight behind it. Karma was silent while Nina strung together another set of words, “Can’t go home…”

“You miss your dad,” Karma responded, and Nina gave a small nod, fidgeting. An older human might have been more shocked by the fact that a dog was talking, but this child was so young that she accepted the strangeness of the situation without much difficulty or confusion. “You can’t sleep?” Nina had passed out after hearing the news regarding her father, and the chimera had insisted that she take her room and have a proper bed, but that exhaustion would only last so long. Nina had gone to bed extremely early.

“No…” She shook her head, before slowly walking over to stand directly in front of her. Most humans, when they looked at Karma, generally perceived some level of threat, whether it be from her size or for her natural weapons. She saw how their gazes would linger on her mouth when she spoke, on her teeth, and then how their eyes would drift to her claws. Nina did none of this, looking at her face, but not at the potential danger she posed. “They took ‘Xander.” Karma could only guess that ‘Xander’ was that faint, canine scent she could smell on the child. “I miss him.”

“Was he a dog?” She asked.

Nina silently nodded, tears welling up again.

“He’s okay, these are nice people,” She slowly raised up a hand, and when the child did not flinch away from those long claws being so close, used the back of one to gently wipe the tears away.

“Mr. Maes said Teddy was sick…” Nina murmured, accepting the gesture easily, but still crying. “Teddy okay?” It was surprising that the child was upset, but asking Karma that question instead.

“Mr. Roy,” Karma felt weird adding the title to it, but knew that would be easier for Nina, “-has been looking after me. I’m getting better, I think.” She kept her voice low and gentle, but never adopted the high-pitched, babyish tone that some people were fond of using for infants and very young children. She absolutely refused to abandon proper grammar and words for gibberish. Language was for learning and communication, and she would always consider it an enormous disservice to young children, to use words that adults would not.

“’Xander never talked,” Nina said, after a few moments.

“That’s because I’m a special dog,” Karma told her, “I’m a lycanthrope.” A word that the child would probably not know, and not entirely accurate, but not a complete lie, either. It was better than saying exactly how she had wound up this way.

“What’s a ly…lycan…” Nina struggled to say the word.

“What about werewolves?” She saw the child brighten, at that. “A lycanthrope is another word for werewolf.”

“Teddy’s a werewolf?” the girl asked, fascinated, before frowning thoughtfully, “But werewolves change…” She drifted off and gestured wildly with her hands. Karma knew she meant that they could turn into people, but Nina probably had no idea what the chimera was supposed to be. Her voice was very warped in her current body, and that would make identifying her age difficult.

“I got stuck,” Karma felt a pang of grief for her human form, but covered it with an embarrassed sort of protest, keeping her tone light. “I can’t change back. I’m still a pretty werewolf, right?” She asked. She personally thought she looked horrible, as thin as she was, and with her fur dull due to malnutrition, but it was still better than being covered with mud and unidentifiable substances.

Nina stared at her, before speaking slowly, “…Yeah.” Karma knew she was lying to spare her feelings. It was not a convincing one, but still, it was surprising, a little.

She sighed and flopped on her side, staring up at the child from her pile of blankets on the floor, “You wound me, Nina.”

“What does ‘wound’ mean?”

“You hurt me.”

“What? No I didn’t,” Nina quietly protested, by this point, effectively distracted from her tears.

“You hurt my feelings. Liar,” She kept her tone teasing, rather than serious.

“Nuh-uh,” The two-year-old shook her head, “Teddy’s im…im-a-gin-ing it.” A very big word, for a child so young, but used perfectly. Perhaps Nina was a bit precocious, because many children her age would have no understanding of such things. It did surprise Karma, though, that ‘imagine’ was a word the girl knew, but not ‘wound’.

Though she could not laugh, her tail thumped on the floor, “Say you’re sorry,” She insisted.

“Not sad,” Nina pointed at her tail for emphasis.

“No, I’m not,” Karma agreed, “I’m just messing with you.”

“Why?”

“Because the adults can be scary, and you aren’t,” It was hard to be completely honest about her emotions with Roy and the others, because so much of her survival and safety depended on their approval. Karma did not handle the fact that she was entirely reliant on them very well, even though she could convincingly act as if it she were fine. They often watched her teeth and claws, and it made her unpleasantly aware of how scary she looked to humans. Karma felt none of that pressure to pretend in front of Nina, and although a child could not understand much, there was almost a sense of safety, in talking to her. “I get scared easy.”

“Why are they scary?”

“I get scared of them because they sometimes get scared of me. I’m big and I have sharp teeth. I get upset when people are scared.”

“Teddy’s not scary,” Nina insisted, reaching out a hand and fearlessly patting her head, right in front of her ear, “Teddy’s fluffy.”

Karma’s tail wagged again, “Both can be true. I still have sharp teeth.” She saw Nina’s hand reach towards her mouth, “Don’t stick your hand in my mouth,” The hand hesitated, “It’s rude.” She completed the thought.

“Okay,” Nina did not see any reason to deny she had been about to jam her fingers in the chimera’s mouth to look at her fangs. Moments later, the child yawned.

“You’re tired. You should go sleep. You have a busy day tomorrow,” Karma pointed out.

“Not tired,” Nina insisted.

“I know that’s a lie,” Karma responded.

The conversation was easy, but convincing a reluctant toddler to go back to bed was probably not.

Roy emerged that morning, on his off day, to discover that Karma was still asleep in the living room, for a change. That did not warrant his attention nearly as much as the little girl curled up against her side, though. Nina had her head resting on the chimera’s shoulder, the majority of the teen’s blankets having been moved to act as a cushion to protect the toddler from the wooden flooring. Another was tossed over the child, so that she would stay warm. As she slumbered, she looked entirely peaceful, and very out-of-place, when she should have been in the bed that Karma had willingly given up so that she would have a place to rest.

“Karma,” He spoke quietly, trying to wake the chimera, but not the child. She blinked awake with a slight jolt, briefly glancing around, as if to orient herself, before giving him her full attention. “Why is Nina sleeping on the floor with you and not in bed?” He asked.

“She woke up and came in crying, so I calmed her down, and then I couldn’t convince her to go back to bed. I finally just gave up and we wound up like this.” There was something clearer about her eyes, when she looked at him. After a week of steady care, perhaps the first sign of recovery she was showing was this rare sharpness in her gaze that Roy had only seen in brief glimpses, before. It would appear when the chimera needed to make her thoughts known, and then vanish behind a murky veil, as if it had never been there. Now, though, it was constant, and piercing in its intensity. Her voice was calm and even, having none of the timidness he had started to think would never disappear.

“You could have woken someone up,” He told her, trying not to dwell on the fact that with those eyes, he felt as if Karma could see through him.

“I kept my distance initially because I thought she needed to connect with a human being, not a dog. If Maes and Gracia want her, she needs to bond with them as caregivers…but if they’re taking her, then I will probably see her again in the future.” The words were spoken at a normal pace, rather than the slow, careful speed she normally adopted for such statements; but then again, Roy only knew Karma as a weak and starving thing. He had thought certain kinds of recovery would be slow and gradual, but now, it looked as if it were an immediate shift, at least for certain aspects of her behavior. “I can handle this.” She said, her voice firm.

“You seem to be doing well, today,” Roy remarked, deciding that starting an argument would not do any good, although he wished that the chimera had done something to get their attention. One of the adults could have carried Nina back to bed, versus letting her sleep on the floor. Karma, though, probably had trouble viewing such a thing as abnormal, considering it was how she usually slept. Although he had hopes that she would eventually feel comfortable enough to sleep on a mattress, Roy had learned over the course of a week that Karma preferred to make a nest of blankets in a hidden corner.

Perhaps he would try to think of a way to rig up some sort of tent or canopy for her bed, so that someone sleeping there would not be visible from the door. She seemed to prefer tight, enclosed spaces not much larger than herself to sleep in, and he had no idea if this was an extension of animal instincts, or a learned preference because it kept her hidden from possible threats. He was not going to build her a doghouse, though. It had to at least resemble something that looked like it would belong to a human. Treating her fairly had to be a conscious effort; she was his charge, not a pet.

“I don’t feel like I have fog in my brain anymore,” She responded, before looking at Nina, and nudging her with one paw—hand—he had to remind himself not to mix up his terminology in his own thoughts. “Nina? Hey. Hey wake up.”

The child gave a quiet grumble and shifted.

“Nina…” A slight, not-serious warning was in her tone that time, before she inspected the blankets. She used her nose to nudge more of them under the child’s head, before moving away. There was a brief moment where Nina’s face dropped onto the blankets, although Karma had made sure that it would not cause any injury. It did the trick, however, and she jolted awake.

“Wanna sleep…” She grumbled.

“It’s morning, time to get up,” Karma eyed the window, where sunlight was streaming through. Roy admittedly was not a morning person, if he was honest with himself. Few things were more enjoyable than sleeping in, although only a soldier would call this late. He was usually awake before sunrise thanks to his work obligations, and this time of day, just now rising was probably normal. He felt better, though, having gotten some much-needed extra sleep.

“I imagine you’ll still want breakfast,” Roy commented, “We don’t have to be nearly as strict with your portion sizes, but we will have to be careful to keep the increase gradual, just in case. I think you’ll be fine, though.”

“I’m really not going to turn down food like this.”

“Would you mind something different, maybe?” He asked. Karma had shown up until this point zero clear preferences for whatever she liked or disliked, and it worried him, a little. Although it would cause trouble to look after someone who was a particularly picky eater, he almost wished she was. Roy had no idea if she had favorite foods or things she actually hated, and for the sake of survival she was even willing to eat something humans would never consume. He was used to trying to navigate around some sort of dietary preference when he cooked for other people. The most he had been doing lately was avoiding foods that might be poisonous.

“I’m not picky,” Karma replied, while Nina slowly got up. He was becoming very familiar with that particular line. He disliked it far more than he ever thought he would.

“Any preferences?” He decided to ask, because if the chimera sensed any sort of implications behind his questions, she refused to acknowledge them. He got the sense that even if she was able to pick up on subtleties, she preferred more straightforward communication.

“Why ask me? We have Nina here. So long as it isn’t dessert, I think it should be _her_ pick, not mine.”

Roy cursed inwardly, because he had no way to argue against that. “Alright, then. Nina, I’m making breakfast, what would you like?”

“Waffles!” the child declared.

Roy did not own a waffle iron, “Would pancakes work?” He asked.

“Okay!” She agreed easily.

During breakfast, when he left the chimera in her room to eat privately, he paid careful attention to how she went for the bacon first.

_Later that day…_

After breakfast, everyone had set out to complete different tasks. Maes and Gracia were going to formally apply so they could foster Nina, and Roy was responsible for making sure Karma had proper supplies. As thin as she was, along with her massive size, they garnered many stares even if he was no longer in uniform, leading her along for appearance’s sake with a blue lead that looped around her neck at the end. As much as he hated it, one of the first things he needed to do was get a collar for her, although he had a feeling finding one large enough would be difficult. With a collar, there would be formal proof that she belonged, and people would no longer mistake her for a stray, even if she was excessively thin.

“Mister, you need to feed that poor dog more!” A woman said to him on the street, truly concerned, stopping him as he went on his way.

“She’s newly-adopted, ma’am.” He told her, seeing Karma shift out of the corner of his eye. He could sense her inclination to bolt.

That seemed to appease the stranger, and they continued to the pet store, quickly making their way to the aisle where the collars were. They came in many different sizes and colors, with different materials. “Alright, I think it’s fair that you get some say. I know the chokers are out of the question.” Some of them looked almost pretty, but at the end of those leather straps were chains that went through them, designed to pull tighter when tugged. Most of the larger dog collars were of this type, because it was the most effective way to control the animal, but the thought of putting something like that on a teenager horrified him.

This whole thing was horrible, as much as he was trying to make this seem more like he was picking out an accessory. Collars were things that claimed ownership an control, and the fact that it was a necessity for Karma’s protection and safety left a sour taste in his mouth.

Karma gently tugged on the lead in his hand as she eyed the different things, before seeming to spot something. She reached out a claw, and proceeded to drag four different mismatched collars off a hook, where they fell to the bottom. Roy was slightly annoyed by this, before he saw her pull the final collar to the front, one large enough that it would probably fit if adjusted properly.

It was a collar of sturdy leather, the tag declaring it to be authentic. It was tooled to bear a pattern reminiscent of fish scales, or those present on serpentine eastern dragons depicted in artwork. It was black leather, but bright, azure blue dye had been worked into it, filling indentations while leaving raised parts their original color. The buckle was large and silver, meant to allow engraving work for the intended wearer’s name and the address of the dog’s owner. Removing it from the hook revealed it had been there for a long time, a thin layer of dust coming off on his hand. “So this one, then?” The blue was significantly brighter than his own military uniform, though not necessarily lighter in shade. “Interesting choice,” He remarked.

The chimera tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, and he could tell she was trying to puzzle out if he was judging her taste to be lacking, or merely agreeing. He had been getting those strange, searching looks a lot, today, and it made him more nervous than he thought it would. There was something distinctly unnerving about a dog with human-level intelligence, teen or not, compared to whenever he was dealing with a normal person. Karma should not have made him uneasy, but she had a unique talent for it. What did he really know about her, anyway?

Apparently she liked bright, bold colors, but not too much, if this were anything to go by. She seemed to place some amount of value on things being a better quality if they were used often. This was probably the sturdier, more durable choice of collar that could last years, compared to something made of normal fabric that would quickly grow dirty and fall apart after being washed so many times.

A sense of refinement, then.

“Well, I guess this is the one we’re getting, then. I can probably use alchemy to do the engraving. At least with this people won’t mistake you for a stray anymore.” He intended to let her walk without a leash once he thought enough time had passed that he could get away with it without raising suspicion. Technically he could do that right now, except she was too thin and people would think she was lost. People would mistake him for being an inattentive caretaker, except on the side of town where she was well-known as a stray.

He had not even contemplated how people would view taking their local legend away.

Karma snorted and tilted her head, and he watched her for a few moments, trying to understand what that meant. It was a question, of sorts, but for what, he had no idea. He was going to have to get good at guessing, he supposed. A bit more time passed, where he could practically sense the chimera’s growing annoyance, before he spoke, “I think we’ll look for an art supply store next,” He decided. He wondered, briefly, if she would be permitted in, like the pet store, but if not, he would have to leave her home and go out later without her with him.

This was going to be a little more complicated than he first thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, timeskip after this. Not a big one, but you'll see.
> 
> SCRIPT:
> 
> Roy: I'm surprised you want a typeface sort of font for your collar and not something a little more elegant.
> 
> Karma: Typefaces with serifs are easier to read, and I personally like them.
> 
> Roy: I don't exactly recall what a serif is.
> 
> Karma: The little lines at the edges of letters and such, sometimes that's how you know the difference between an uppercase I and a lowecase l. Sometimes the sans-seriff groups change the sizes because that's the only way you tell them apart. There's also a rule that letters and lines should never touch.
> 
> Roy: Did you...ever study publishing?
> 
> Karma: Hmm...Maybe?
> 
> (This site uses a default sans-serif font)


	14. With Respect for Their Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A month after Karma comes to live with Roy, she has recovered well, and the whereabouts of something missing becomes clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad that people are enjoying the parental bonding thing between Karma and Roy, but keep in mind, Karma is a fifteen-year-old teenager, and Roy is actually only older than her by ten years, I did the math. The reason I figure this is important is because, in spite of the age gap, if they were normal human beings and in the future Karma was an adult, it would be more likely for people to think they were in some sort of romantic relationship, rather than father and daughter. Roy is actually too young to have a child Karma's age.
> 
> That in mind, this is not a romance, but it does have some amount of bearing on the story.
> 
> While it is still possible for a bond to form reminiscent of parent and child, I think it's fair to say that their relationship will be unconventional in certain ways, and especially because Karma is older, you won't immediately see them fall into these roles. The kind of bond between parent and child is extremely complex, and while I think by this point, Karma trusts Roy to take care of her and keep her safe, that isn't the same as being emotionally vulnerable. Much of Karma's shows of vulnerability in past chapters have had links to survival or losing advantages that would be beneficial to it, such as approval of other people. As fears of her immediate survival fade, she is going to put up walls and hide most of her inner thoughts, because keep in mind, she hasn't had anyone in years who would actually look out for her emotionally.
> 
> Roy is similarly not good with emotional vulnerability, but we know he has his own problems. This will inevitably be something our characters run into. Roy, I think, does really try very hard in this story to earn Karma's trust. Parenting doesn't actually come naturally to some people, and there is a genuine, conscious effort behind what it means to be a good father. I feel like this applies especially to Roy, who needs to carefully think over why he does something.
> 
> Anyway, that's the meta stuff that some people like to read. Back to the story!

Karma had to suppress the urge to flinch whenever Dr. Erdman touched her. It was abnormal, because never in her life had she been so afraid of doctors, but after her first encounter with the woman, it hardly mattered that the veterinarian had apologized, and not known any better. Being forcibly injected with sedatives and undergoing invasive exams without consent had left her with no small amount of mental scarring. The chimera had to actively suppress the urge to bite the hand that was currently checking to see how prominent her ribs were. She knew that this was for her own good, and that was perhaps the sole reason that she cooperated at all.

“You seem to be recovering pretty quickly. As uncomfortable as it is to discuss, your habit of catching stray pigeons probably kept your metabolism functioning much better than if you had nothing at all.” Karma jerked away from the woman’s hands and backed away a few steps until she was cornered by the wall next to where Roy was seated. This entire situation was uncomfortable for everyone involved, which did nothing for her own nerves.

“So, you think we can stop worrying about her diet as much?” Roy asked, fingers interlaced, looking calm, though his aura was anxious.

Since Maes and Gracia had left for Central, Nina in tow, the Lieutenant Colonel had begun regularly asking Karma if she had preferences related to food and many other things, to the point that it put her on guard. She continued to tell him that she was not a picky eater or emphasize that she was fine with whatever he decided, and it was frustrating, that he seemed bothered by these answers. It had to be difficult for the man to look after her, when he had so many obligations already, and she was interfering with his intelligence network by preventing him from going on dates. She was not going to get too comfortable and expect anything more than what he already did.

Dr. Erdman looked at the Lieutenant Colonel, “I think you can officially say she’s out of the woods. She still needs to have a balanced, nutritious diet, but it doesn’t need to be as strictly regulated. If you were planning on having a celebration dinner when I gave the word, go ahead.” It was strange that Karma could practically sense Roy’s feelings of victory and relief. The veterinarian wrote something down on a slip of paper and handed it to the man, “Her next appointment is in six months…” She seemed to remember something, “Another minor detail, one of her animals is capable of regeneration. If she gets a notable injury for any reason, you’ll have to fake the speed at which it heals, if she happened to inherit that particular ability—Karma, you are aware of this, correct?”

A phantom pain flashed through her right ear, “Yeah, I figured it wasn’t important to mention it unless something happened. Everything grows back. If I get something that ought to leave a scar, though, or my ears get torn, it’s over. I can’t fake that.”

“It’s always good to inform people. You two can go.”

With that, Roy took hold of the leash—they both hated it, but it was necessary for appearances—and departed through the hallway and lobby. They were given a farewell by the clerk at the front desk, but otherwise, nobody bothered them. People had initially tried to win her over using the typical techniques for skittish animals, speaking in high-pitched voices and offering treats. The chimera could only remember how these same people who were so respectful of her boundaries now had forcibly held her still. Karma felt too uneasy in the clinic to do more than cling closely to the Lieutenant Colonel’s side, as if that would somehow protect her from another incident.

When they were a safe distance away, still in the mostly-deserted parking lot, Roy spoke, “You did well, although I hope you’ll tell me honestly what you would like for dinner, now. Don’t answer me by saying just anything. You have to have preferences.” His tone was not harsh, but there was a sort of finality to it that told Karma she could not avoid naming things, this time.

“Why does it matter to you?” She asked, her voice quiet, though there did not seem to be anyone out that would hear her. She would stay alert for as long as necessary. Being heard could mean death.

“You live under my roof, and I have very little idea, a month later, if you like or hate what I cook. I appreciate that you’re trying not to cause trouble for me, but you’re more than a guest. You’re allowed to have an opinion.” Roy was not a person who shied from conflict, Karma got the impression, if it was related to his career or even his office. Within his home, though, he seemed reluctant to do things that might disturb the relative peace between the two of them. This was the first time that he had demanded an answer to his question in the form of an order.

Her ear twitched, “I’m not used to having choices.” It was a horrible thing to say out loud, but it was true. She liked having options, but it was also intimidating, when the norm was to go along with whatever someone else dictated. There were false choices; people would give her options, but the scenario itself would forbid her from taking anything except what they wanted her to choose. There was a price to be paid for displeasing caretakers.

Roy had offered more choices than Karma had seen in years. Although she could not personally go with him to the store to get a new bedspread and curtains for her room, he had told her to describe what she liked, and had truly tried to find something she would like, to the best of his ability. Her room, once filled with solid, dark green colors, now featured indigo instead. The bed’s deep blue quilt had faint variation in the squares of fabric, and the curtains and lamp cover matched.

It was the tent that had been unusual, but also, the thing that had been the most touching.

Rigged above her bed, with a large, thick blanket over its frame, was a triangular prism frame that Roy had prepared as a sort of makeshift den. It was just large enough for Karma to fit inside, and kept out a great deal of light. Most notably, though, it hid the windows and door from her sight, and the chimera found that like this, she was able to fall asleep on the bed, versus the floor.

It was beyond thoughtful, and perceptive, because Karma had never expressed that being out in the open was her problem.

“I can’t promise you’ll be able to do everything you want,” He told her, “But it’s not normal to never have an opinion or choice, either.” She was entirely aware of this, but facilities were not normal places.

She hummed for a moment, “Fish, then.”

“What kind?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Can you be a _little_ more specific?” Roy’s voice was exasperated.

“No, because I don’t know what’s at the market. East City’s weird. You got a river here, but you don’t have a proper fishing industry established in the area.”

“How are you aware of this, exactly?”

“You think a bunch of dock workers can catch me?” She would travel far, if it meant having access to food. She knew that while there was regular shipping using the river as a form of transport, people did not catch fish there. Although there might be an odd individual who set out with a fishing line or net, there was no major industry. Karma thought it was an odd waste of a resource that could feed a lot of people.

“I would think so, after my men did,” his expression morphed from irritation into something like smugness. Were she not already somewhat fond of this person, she would have been annoyed, but as it was, he was simply playing a game. Roy Mustang was an individual who could prompt either of two different reactions from people. No matter which category someone fell into, it was perhaps universally understood that this was a proud man, unafraid of sassing someone when he could get away with it. Depending on who you were, you would either find his behavior amusing, or infuriating.

“The only reason you did, is because I was starving—someone’s coming.” Their conversation was cut off as a car pulled up. A man and woman got out, one of them holding a small carrier containing what sounded like a highly disgruntled cat. Karma pinned back her ears, the shrieking from such a small creature painfully loud.

“Well, I guess we’re having fish,” Roy murmured, as he proceeded forward, Karma forced to keep walking to prevent the leash from tugging. The Lieutenant Colonel held his end of the lead loosely, so much that it could easily be yanked from his grip if the chimera wished to get away. She remained on her own terms, and Roy knew that. He was the safest person to be around; he offered food and protection, and did his best to treat her like a human being. There was no illusion, however, about what their relationship was.

Roy was looking after Karma, but they were still strangers, even if they lived in the same house. He spent most of his days at work, and would probably start going on fake dates with his informants again, now that the chimera no longer needed careful supervision. She trusted him not to hurt her, but it was hard to get to know a person, when quality time was so rare. Although there was little that made this situation different from what it would have been like, had Karma been adopted by a single parent, their connection was nowhere near close enough to pass as family.

They began heading for the market, and when they rounded a corner, Roy spoke again, “How would you feel about coming to the office with me tomorrow? People keep asking about you.”

When he glanced at her sidelong to read her reaction, she tilted her head, unsure.

“I won’t force you, but it’s not good to stay cooped up at my place, either. I know you’ve been focusing on learning materials, but you need to get used to being around people again.” Because wanting to dart away so everyone was at a distance was highly abnormal, and more like a wild animal than a tame pet, or a fellow human being.

She snorted.

“Is that a good snort or a bad one?”

The chimera stared at him.

“I don’t know what you want.”

Communication remained a frustrating thing for both of them. There were many occasions where Karma could not react in a fashion that was too obvious, because the gestures were unnatural and too conspicuous. It resulted in stare downs between the two of them, with Roy desperately trying to translate subtle looks and body language into some sort of human language. It drew perplexed looks from strangers in public, before being dismissed; pet owners who loved their dogs often did talk to them, even if it could brand a person as eccentric.

The situation was made worse by the knowledge that the two of them did extremely well and made plenty of progress when both of them could talk without restriction. The moment they had to don the illusion of pet and owner, things came to a screeching halt.

Karma huffed and lowered her head, yanking on the sleeve of his shirt.

“Hey, stop that.”

She growled at him—not an aggressive sound, but a quiet, annoyed one.

“Karma, I can’t understand you. Do you want to go to the office or-” She yanked on his sleeve again, cutting him off. “Is that a yes?”

She gave a wild jerk of her head.

“Alright, then. I’ll take you with me, tomorrow.”

It was a moment later, after he made this decision, that a noise within an alleyway they were passing caught her attention.

Roy Mustang yelled as the chimera yanked the leash from his hand and darted away.

Nature could be exceptionally cruel in practice, but it was also, one would find, a delicate, self-balancing system. Chimeras, though often friendly towards their own kind, were freakish, alchemic creations, and though they could prove to be very effective for tasks humans had in mind, this did not always translate well into surviving in the wild. Pure species were refined through a constant process of natural selection, a combination of traits from coloration to intelligence deciding whether something lived or died. A chimera that was part cat could easily lose the advantage of stealth due to another animal trait, and the act of balancing traits while preserving function was considered a higher level of bio-alchemy that few ever achieved.

Karma, though she was in a very canine body, appearance-wise, was perfectly balanced in her traits. Her body was a near-perfect melding of the features of her animals, rather than the bizarre, patchwork appearance of most chimeras that Roy had seen in passing. She survived well on her own, even if she had been found starving; going months without having any assistance, and easily integrating herself into a pack of stray dogs.

The little chimera that was crying like a baby, however—truly _crying_ , like a human infant, or rather, mimicking the noise—had not been so lucky. It was the thing that lured her into the alleyway, Roy discovered, when he followed her. Curled up against a brick wall, a pile of dusty black feathers was coiled up, the beak partially hidden beneath them. A glimmer of blood was visible along the creature’s back, a reflective wet shine against the darkness, several broken and bent feathers obvious. It had been attacked by an animal of some sort, a stray cat or dog, or even a murder of crows, he was unsure. He simply knew that it was injured, and in its own way, was weakly calling for help.

He felt bad, now, for attributing something like evil to a creature that had done nothing inherently wrong. It was Shou Tucker’s crow-snake creation, his most intelligent one, replicating what must have been what it heard when Nina was crying as a baby. It knew that someone would answer the noise, and tried to make sure someone found it, even if that meant being captured again.

“It’s Tucker’s chimera we took as evidence,” Roy said, trying to figure out what Karma’s expression meant. “We thought it would maybe remember something incriminating and repeat it. Of course we’ve already successfully court-martialed him…but this one escaped from the building, and we never found it.”

It had been living out here for weeks, surviving just like Karma had in the wild, until something attacked it. A beady dark eye peeked out from the mess of feathers, _“Xander,”_ it said. _“Good doggy.”_ It slowly uncoiled, as a snake would, lifting its head, and blinking at the teen, inspecting a fellow existence harmed through an alchemist’s work. Although it was supposedly not capable of understanding human speech, Roy was half convinced it did. There was a clear context that the bird-snake was using.

“He’s very badly hurt,” Karma murmured, slowly reaching out a hand, the little chimera flinching and making a panicked croak at the movement, pressing itself against the wall until she scooped it up with her claws. It twisted its head around and tried to bite at her thumb-turned-dewclaw, but she did not react. It was not exceptionally small, but it would pass through Roy’s finger and thumb if he formed them into a ring. The larger chimera sat back on her haunches, carefully balancing so that she could inspect the wounded creature with both front limbs.

While the small chimera kept fussing and trying to nip at her fingers, having no wings or legs and thus only able to twist fruitlessly in her grip—he knew she was keeping it gentle—she parted through the damp feathers, fur coming away stained red. “I think…he got pecked by a flock of crows. They must have rejected him. This looks like something a beak would do…and…he’s got a broken blood feather here. We need to pluck it out in order to stop the bleeding. It’s like a faucet.” All the while, the feathered serpent croaked and panicked, even as Karma remained forcefully calm.

“I could get court-martialed for taking him to Dr. Erdman. If you can stop the bleeding, go ahead.” He spoke even as he absently wondered why he had started calling the chimera a ‘him’ instead of an ‘it’. Chimeras could technically be male or female, but they could also be a bizarre mix of both.

“I can’t part the normal feathers and get at the bad one without hurting him. I need you to do it for me. I can hold him still.”

He eyed the creature warily, and how it viciously tried to attack Karma’s hand even though she was not harming it. Roy worked a desk job, and although he did some amount of exercise to keep himself in shape, that had no bearing on how tough the skin on his digits was. He did not do any sort of labor that was rough on the hands, so he would feel even the smallest of paper cuts. Meanwhile, Karma spent most of her time walking barefoot and bare-palmed over many different surfaces; she would have the toughest calluses on anything that made contact, plus fur as protection. His charge remained either unable to feel the sharp, nipping beak, or was stoically refusing to show the pain. Roy was not so confident that he could avoid having the small chimera drawing blood.

“I will hold him still,” Karma repeated, as if reading his thoughts. “Look, he’s going to keep losing blood and he’s not big enough for that. Hurry up and pluck it out so the bleeding can stop.”

Roy’s life was chaos related to animals, anymore, so he let out a long, heavy sigh, “Alright, what am I looking for?” He asked, walking over and kneeling down so he was level.

“It’s pretty easy to identify blood feathers. It’s right here-“ She gestured with a claw to a small patch of feathers, before gently gripping the chimera’s neck to hold it still. As if sensing that it could be killed at any moment, the beak gaped open and it blinked, going still, possibly in a state of shock. It looked surprised it was not dead, if Roy were to guess what the expression meant. “-Look for a feather where the main shaft is dark, meaning blood flow. Pluck it out. Ideally we would have something to put pressure on it, but…”

Roy had no idea how Karma was familiar with something that should have been knowledge limited to people who kept birds, but she sounded confident in what she was doing, so he did not question it. Despite being so close to a veterinarian’s office, there was no way for him to secretly smuggle this chimera in, like he could with his charge. They were on their own, with this situation. He let out another sigh, and began looking through the feathers. The chimera’s plumes were softer closer to the head, and became stiffer going further down the body, and although it was part reptile, it was warm against his fingers. He finally located what Karma had been looking for.

Blood feathers must have been what happened when they were still growing. There was a darkened plume, smaller than the rest, and it was broken in half, blood welling from the tip, not clotting at all. “Alright, here…” He murmured, more to steady himself, as he gripped at the base, and pulled. There was surprisingly more resistance to it coming loose than he thought, and the chimera began croaking again, before the blood feather was gone and it was fine. “Got it,” He told her, examining the little thing that had apparently caused a medical emergency.

“Well, he’s going to keep bleeding from that spot, but it can at least stop now, I think? I don’t know anything past blood feathers.”

If Roy were completely honest with himself, he knew that this chimera ought to be returned to East Command, where it belonged with the rest of the animals seized from Shou Tucker’s lab. He knew, though, if he did that, Karma would probably think badly of him for it. He briefly considered how easy it would be to break the chimera’s neck, but considering that this individual had lived for years in a cage, it was not suffering extreme pain related to its condition. It was only hurt now because it had been attacked by wild animals.

If he thought killing the chimera would be a mercy because of what it was, Karma might close off, and it was extremely hard to win her over, he had noticed. She had seemed very open, when he first met her, but as her cognitive function improved and she began getting closer to a healthier weight, she grew more guarded. It was so subtle that he would have never noticed it, were it not for how she had been at the beginning. Almost like a habit, Karma had her hidden world of thoughts and emotions, and she rarely permitted Roy to have an insight into what they were.

Killing Tucker’s chimera would perhaps seem like a mercy to Roy, but to Karma, it would perhaps be more like a sign that he thought death would be mercy for _her_ , too. He knew that she despised that idea, and seemed to fight against it as if she were grappling with a real, tangible enemy, and not a concept. If he killed this feathered serpent, she would probably never forgive him for it.

So he was faced with a choice that, were it not for his charge, he would have never considered. Take it home or let it go, even though it needed treatment for its injuries? What he normally would have done was not an option, now.

Roy had his vest, which was light enough to wrap around it securely. Although it was part bird, it was probably tougher than it looked because of the snake component. He would just have to hope that nothing happened on the way back.

“Looks like we have to make a second trip for the market, Karma,” He decided.

If there was ever a time to prove that he could be trusted with a chimera’s wellbeing, it was now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it over a lot before I had this scene written out. I think while the little crow chimera was able to easily evade humans, it would be seen as somehow diseased or a threat by normal crows, and attacked as a result of that. This is extremely horrible, but is a phenomenon that you would probably see in certain wild animals. I would say this presented a bit of a test for Roy, also. He does have an obligation to his work to just immediately return the chimera, except he has another obligation to Karma. He has to decide which one he wants to prioritize.
> 
> SCRIPT:
> 
> Roy: I can't believe nobody noticed *washes hands in sink*
> 
> Karma: Um...can you help me?
> 
> Roy: Right...you can't get it out of your fur, can you?
> 
> Karma: Paw pads aren't that good for scrubbing...


	15. Locked Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fate of the crow-snake chimera, and a conversation that needs to be held.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended to get this out earlier, with it having the stuff involving Team Mustang, but have a bit of writer's block with that and decided to go for something different instead. I think it's pretty good, though. I'll get to it next chapter, I don't want to make them too long on this story. This story has much shorter chapters than Patchwork Guardian, hence it's nowhere near as far along in the story despite the number of chapters.

What had started as a trip to the vet’s office ended with Roy and Karma both dealing with the health of a chimera that was, according to an alchemist’s notes not kept within the Mustang household, a mix of rat snake, magpie, crow, and raven. Although three of the species in its makeup were very similar, each one had a unique cognitive ability. The Lieutenant Colonel was uncertain, though, as to why the creature was part snake. It was not even a particularly notable species, but a relatively common one; though this might be why Tucker had used it in the first place. He had put it inside a little box with his now-bloodied vest once they got back to his apartment, and he and his charge had watched as it used its beak to nudge the fabric out of its way. Now, it was staring at them through dark, beady eyes, analyzing the situation.

“Of all the ways I intended to spend my off days,” Roy began, after a long, uncomfortable silence, “This is not what I had in mind.” As if he had been talking to it—or should he be saying _him,_ now?—the strange chimera produced a sound reminiscent of water droplets.

“Well,” Karma sounded similarly perplexed, “We brought him back, and he hasn’t tried to run away yet. I think that’s a win. How’d he get out of East Command, anyway? Isn’t that place supposed to be more secure?”

“Someone forgot to close the cage door after feeding him. We thought he never left the building.”

“Well, he got out.”

“Clearly,” He was starting to get a headache, “You knew about the blood feather, so I’m open to suggestions.” Although Karma had claimed that she did not know much beyond how to treat something so dangerous, she probably still knew more about what this feathered snake needed than he did. Chimeras were tricky, and Karma was an easy one to take care of, considering her dietary needs were not too specialized. He had no idea what a mix of birds and reptile would require, and there was a very real risk that he might accidentally poison it, or miss symptoms of illness. He could call Dr. Erdman, but the veterinarian had warned him that dialing her clinic versus her home phone was risky, because the front desk had no privacy.

He was suddenly grateful for how much Karma resembled a normal dog; it would have been impossible to hide her, as large as she was, had she inherited different features. He narrowly got away with doing such a thing with this new creature, because it was easy to wrap it up in a bundle of clothing.

“I guess putting him in the sink and letting the faucet run would be good. He needs to wash off the blood, and if he’s thirsty he can drink that way, too. He’s a mix of snake and crow, so I don’t know if he’s a pure carnivore or if he’s able to eat more than that. He might be hungry.” Her ear twitched when the crow-chimera tilted its head at her. Was Karma perhaps a walking encyclopedia of animal facts? If he ever felt it was necessary to tell more of his team about the nature of her existence, he could see her getting along with Falman.

“Any ideas for what would be safe?” Roy asked.

“We don’t have tiny mice he can swallow whole, but…maybe dog food? If he has the bird’s digestion, that should be safe. I remember crows used to steal dog food when people put it out.”

“Well, that’s convenient, I suppose,” He slowly began to pick up the container that the creature was in, and it raised itself out of the box further, enough that Roy found himself tensing, “Don’t bite me,” He warned, although he did not think the little chimera understood. He walked over to set it down next to the sink, and twisted the knob so that there was a steady stream of water. As soon as the creature saw it, it slithered out of the box to reach for it, making its way so that it could be directly under the stream, where it began to flop around in a bizarre display. Roy could almost imagine the invisible pair of wings, despite the complete absence of limbs.

“Looks like it really was thirsty,” He made a mental note to disinfect his sink. He did not think any of Shou Tucker’s chimeras had the luxury of bathing beyond basic removal of waste from their enclosures—though that was a pretty term for the claustrophobic prisons he had seen them in. At least this individual seemed to be doing a decent job on its own, where his charge needed assistance—which he intentionally tried to block out of his memory, most of the time. The one occasion where Roy had helped Karma bathe had been traumatic for both of them. They understood it was necessary, and the teen knew he had no ulterior motives, but that made the process no less painful or humiliating.

Bathing was cute when it came to animals, but as much as he wanted to flinch away from it, the whole process was very intimate for human beings. Normally a person could do so on their own, and if they had assistance, he thought it ought to be from a trusted loved one. Karma coped almost _too_ well in her new body, and Roy was convinced that she did this by blocking out the things that she could not handle well. He had yet to hear her express any desire to look into a way to become human again; he did not hear her say what she hoped to do in the future or share stereotypical dreams, like wanting to get married or have a career. She had no clear goal for the future beyond what was short-term, like regaining her dexterity.

It was sad.

The teen padded over to her food bowl and inspected it, “Just use my food bowl, I don’t care that much, if we’re going to feed him.”

“Karma, I don’t believe Shou Tucker took excellent care of his chimeras,” He decided to say it, outright, “You don’t know if you’ll catch something.”

“I picked him up and got his blood on me, you think sharing a food bowl’s gonna make a difference?” Her front limbs were still damp from when he had rinsed them off, but it was undeniable that blood was a huge medium for all sorts of diseases. He had to remind himself that this girl had lived for several months eating garbage, and had regularly killed wild pigeons and rats to survive. If the feathered snake was infected with something, then both of them had already been exposed to it.

He sighed in frustration, “Alright, then.”

He still needed to figure out what he was going to do with this creature. Keeping it with him was a risk, far greater than Karma because it could not understand the danger of being seen by the wrong people. He felt bad about the entire idea of trying to bring it back to East Command, especially when it had gotten so far from its prison on its own. He felt like its freedom was perhaps owed, at this point, because of how long it had evaded capture. He thought this over as he went and got Karma’s food bowl, adding a tiny amount of dog food and bringing it over to sit it down next to the sink.

The chimera seemed to have relaxed significantly, shaking itself to scatter water droplets, before making a beeline for the food. A crow’s gut, indeed, it pecked at the kibble with enthusiasm, hardly paying any attention to his presence or Karma’s, now.

“Karma, I know we’re helping him, but we can’t keep him here. He doesn’t know how to act differently or hide around specific people. We need to figure out what we’re going to do.” Roy decided they needed to have this discussion before they got attached. When it had been reciting old words and phrases, it had registered as eerie, perhaps even evil. Seeing it now, however, Roy realized that his own perception had been unfair. A bird could talk and recite death threats and curses, but that did not make the act of doing so evil. It did not deserve to be condemned for what it had been taught by humans. This chimera might not be natural, but at the end of the day, it was just an animal.

“He’s only half-tame, and it won’t get better than that. Not even the parrots people keep as pets are truly domesticated.” Karma replied, watching the creature eat. “I don’t think crows would be happy in captivity, anyway. Too smart. If he was kept in a cage with nothing to do, it’s a wonder he hasn’t gone crazy from it. He needs that mental stimulation.”

“You have a rather interesting opinion,” Roy knew that this chimera was intelligent, but to phrase not giving it anything to do as something that could drive it to madness, that was new. It made sense, though. He knew that boredom was an almost unbearable thing to deal with, and if a person could not find something to do, then sleep was perhaps their only escape from it. There was only so much any individual could rest, however, and afterwards, they were left wide-awake and idle. He had simply never contemplated that it could be the exact same for animals. “So what do you suggest if you don’t want me to take him to East Command?”

“Let him go outside, and put out a tiny bit of food and water each morning. He can go and explore all he wants, and we can guarantee that he’s at least getting one meal each day, since he’ll probably hang around after this. It’s not a complete lie to say you’re trying to befriend local crows if you do that. He won’t be the only thing that you would attract that way.”

“So let him run loose, but have something available for him if he needs the extra help?” He rephrased her suggestion into a shorter sentence. He was surprised that, after this little chimera was clearly attacked by wild animals, Karma would make such a suggestion at all. “You’re certain this will work?”

“It’s the best option given the situation. We don’t have him living in the apartment, he’s getting a little help and has us looking after him if he’s in trouble, and he gets to explore all he wants. If you’re worried about him getting attacked by wild animals, that’s a risk we have to accept. He’s smart enough, though, to avoid humans, because I’m convinced he wanted to be found, and that’s the only reason we caught him. He can learn to avoid crows, now.”

“This is a strange way to ask if we can keep a pet, Karma.” It was not quite keeping a pet, but a very bizarre form of care from a distance.

“It’s better than a cage,” Her gaze drifted off into the distance, looking at nothing in particular.

Roy was quiet for a bit, reflecting on that statement. She claimed she had been imprisoned for several months, and she had never gone into great detail, what that had been like. He got the impression that while she wanted to avoid thinking about it, there was some level of acknowledgement that if she did not, she might never learn to cope with that trauma. Admittedly, most _soldiers_ could not handle what Karma had endured and emerge from it as well as she appeared to be. He knew she still had problems. Even as her health began improving, she had constant nightmares and sleep disturbances, and every so often she would say something that alarmed him. Her current functioning and demeanor was actually remarkable.

Karma seemed to be implying that even as she was starving to death on the streets, she had preferred that to wherever she had been, before.

Roy felt a bit more ashamed of himself, now, thinking about this. He did not get nightmares about Ishval anywhere near as frequently as his charge did her imprisonment and transmutation. He knew that comparing what they had been through was a matter of apples and oranges; they were both horrible, traumatic things, but they were extremely different. Even so, while Karma was able to find effective ways to cope, Roy’s nightmares left him in such a bad state, especially right after the war, that it was a wonder he was not an alcoholic. Even now, sometimes he would drink too much, and have to call Maes for an informal therapy session.

Except his charge was an orphan whose parents had died because of a drunk driver, and he could not afford to let himself do that, anymore. Although he did not think Karma would particularly care if someone drank, overall—though he had never bothered to test the theory—he knew that if he became drunk in her presence, that it would somehow break her trust. Roy was not a dangerous drunk, but seeing him in such a state would probably frighten her, anyway.

“Alright,” He decided, “We’ll wait for it to get dark and let him out, then. We’ll see if he keeps coming back or not. No names, though, unless he does. I don’t want us getting too attached.” Names were a way of claiming something, in a sense. He knew that Karma understood this, because of how she chose her words. People she needed to be close and personal with were addressed using their first names. She talked about his team, though, using their surnames, although she knew other ways to address them. She ignored military titles almost entirely, and he had never heard her refer to him, Maes, or Hawkeye by rank. She had continued this pattern long enough for him to know that it was deliberate.

She continued to call his home ‘the apartment,’ as if it were a place she went to, but not where she belonged.

“Alright,” The teen nodded slowly, before turning to slowly pad away, “I don’t think we’re gonna go to the market now, with this development. I’m gonna go back to my room and read.” Perhaps he was imagining it, but she almost sounded a little disappointed.

“Did you actually want to go?” He asked.

“It’s fine. This is more important, anyway,” It was suddenly harder to read her tone, and he realized she was trying to make him drop the subject. She sounded casual, so natural it would have fooled anyone who heard it, but there was something that felt off, to him. If Karma were not someone who hated subtleties, she would have made an excellent politician, because she had a remarkable ability to mask her true feelings. It was a contradiction in her personality, that she seemed to loathe subtle things from other people, demanding things at face value, but refused to adopt that policy herself…except her intent was to _hide_ her feelings. He did not think she intended for him to pick up on how she felt.

“We can get them tomorrow, I’ll make a note of it.” The difficulty was that Karma readily gave answers he could not argue against. “If you were looking forward to having fish that much, I’m not about to forget.”

When she stopped to look at him, he could tell she was trying to evaluate him again, as she often did. Did she think if she honestly showed some excitement, like a normal person would if they got to have their favorite food, that he would suddenly regard her as a burden? That… _seemed_ to be the reason, at least he thought so. Karma did not outright reject communication with him or act mean, but she was suddenly shutting down and trying to avoid him. “You don’t have to concern yourself with it, really. It’s fine.”

“…I don’t appreciate being lied to. You were excited to go, and you’re disappointed now.”

He caught a brief change in her expression as she turned to face him, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. “I’ve been living here for a month, and I appreciate it, really, that you’ve been looking after me, but that doesn’t mean you know me. Isn’t this what I’m _supposed_ to do? I’m being good, I’m accepting that the situation doesn’t work and you just call me a liar?”

Perhaps he should have chosen his words more carefully.

He needed to watch what he said in response, now, because he had put her on the defensive. She had no intentions of accepting what was admittedly a very harsh criticism, plus an overt assumption of her emotions. Roy took a brief moment to think, before concluding that control might be the problem. Karma had just gotten back from the vet, a place that only reminded her of being mishandled against her will, and now he had outright told her what she was feeling. If he disagreed, it _sounded_ controlling, even to his own ears.

Control would sound horrible to anyone who had suffered constantly in the past because of other people making bad decisions.

Roy took a deep breath to calm himself—this chimera stressed him far worse than Tucker’s creation ever would—and responded, “I’m sorry, that was wrong of me. But it isn’t any trouble for me to go and fix you something nice, even if I have to make a special trip. You shouldn’t be punished for being kind. This chimera might be dead if it wasn’t for you, but it has nothing to deal with you being allowed complete freedom with your diet. I think we’re due for a celebration dinner, regardless.”

 _“Regardless_ ,” The chimera echoed, nearly making Roy jump, a hand twitching for his pocket. It had spoken the word using his own voice, not Tucker’s. The creature was watching them and copying their words.

Karma was quiet, before she closed her eyes, perhaps to hide that she wanted to roll them, her tail giving a brief wag. He suspected, since she had never actually _laughed_ , that the wagging was an automatic response that had replaced it. She seemed to do it whenever she was amused by something. “…I…okay…I don’t…know how to respond, or what to say.” It was heartbreaking, how lost Karma truly sounded. Perhaps she had forgotten what it was like to be seen as a priority beyond basic needs. What kind of foods she liked, her hobbies…the things that were trivial to most people seemed the most significant, to her. He could not say this was the first time she had reacted this way.

“I guess saying thanks, for you, feels empty, doesn’t it?”

That earned him another searching look, enough to make him wonder if he had said something wrong again, before she finally sighed, “You…you gotta survive, right? You gotta…live, you need…what? Food? Shelter, clothes on your back…nobody talks about…what it’s like, really, when that’s… _all_ people give you, and they expect you to be grateful, like they’ve done you this huge favor. When you’re a kid, you know…you don’t _get_ a say. It’s weird when you do, maybe suspicious…like…what’s the catch? Even if there isn’t one. It’s hard to think anyone’s sincere when if you’re wrong you just get hurt. Why take the risk?”

“You shouldn’t have to give up on things that would make you happy, because something _might_ go wrong. But you know that. I think I get it. It’s not easy changing the way you look at something. It’s hard, and people don’t talk about that enough, I suppose.” He sighed, ran a hand through his hair, thinking, before speaking again, “I _want_ to be someone you can trust, and I know it’s hard…but I can’t do that if you won’t give me a chance.”

“I’ll…try…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fun fact, Karma suffers what I would say is a fear of emotional intimacy. Although she actually does want to connect with people, Karma will generally hide her innermost feelings if a relationship becomes too serious or precious to her, and may even push Roy away at times. Keep in mind, fear of intimacy is also not the same as a fear of vulnerability. Karma is comfortable showing her true self to people, at least initially, but she has a very strong fear of being controlled or losing a relationship she values, to the point that she will actually sabotage herself.
> 
> You can actually apply this same issue to her counterpart in Patchwork Guardian, although it's not nearly as obvious. (This may or may not be some sort of spoiler. It does give you a clue how these characters will act).
> 
> SCRIPT:
> 
> Roy: Why won't he go out the window?
> 
> Karma: Maybe he doesn't want to leave in the middle of the night?
> 
> Roy: Well, if he doesn't want to go out the window now then I hope he'll do it early in the morning. We can't leave him in the apartment alone.


	16. Who is Without Malice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy brings Karma to his office to see how she interacts with his team, and gets news from a visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is still ongoing, but I think I want to do a timeskip because I'm getting stuck, and I'm not too sure how well this chapter turned out. It's significant, but I don't actually see a whole lot I can develop here without it feeling forced. I'd like to really jump straight to Ed and Al showing up, if I'm honest.

Bringing Karma to the office was a decision that Roy found himself regretting, on some level. Her conversations with him were regular enough that he could almost forget how terrible she was when forced into a confined space with virtual strangers, until things like this gave him a reminder. Although she was more tolerant of Hawkeye’s presence, and was not overtly hostile towards his people, she was far from willing to behave like a typical, affectionate canine.

Living with dogs, and being half dog in her makeup, Roy had reason to be concerned about how her time as a stray had impacted Karma mentally. Right now she was acting less human, and _very_ animal. It was unnerving in ways that he had never experienced before, made worse by the fact that only himself and his trusted Second Lieutenant were aware of how problematic it truly was. Roy was forced to agonize over this, in addition to wondering what other issues his charge might have that he had not yet encountered.

“Come on, Karma, don’t you want a treat?” Havoc tried to persuade her out from behind Roy’s desk with a dog biscuit he had produced from nowhere, the exact opposite of Breda, who had somehow climbed on top of the lockers, trying to stay as far away as possible. The smoker, met with relative success in winning over his own dog Lucy, was determined to get close enough to the chimera to pet her, and Karma had no desire to let him. She did not like anyone touching her, as Roy had learned a long time ago. Although she never bared her teeth, she had an impressive glare, and that alone was sufficient to deter most people from getting too close. She twitched occasionally, a strange, anxious tic that was not present whenever he had walked with her outside.

The Lieutenant Colonel was not sure who was using him as a shield more, Karma or his people. It felt like a standoff despite the majority of his team doing paperwork and ignoring the spectacle.

“Havoc,” He finally said, setting down his pen, “I think it would be wise for you to ignore Karma and let her get used to you on her own.”

“What?” The man protested, “She walked right up to my house when she was on the streets.”

“Emphasis on ‘when she was on the streets’ Havoc. Nobody likes feeling trapped.” Karma could actually leave the office if she wanted to. She knew how to open doors, and while she was still a bit thin, she was quickly regaining the weight she had lost, now that her metabolism had readjusted to having regular meals. If it had been difficult to catch her before, when she was sickly and weak, it would be impossible when she was in proper health.

The only reason Karma had _not_ bolted out of the office, Roy knew, was because she trusted him to keep people from crowding her, and because she was all too aware of how bad it would look for her guardian if she were to misbehave. A bit more mercy was granted to the Lieutenant Colonel by his men, who knew the entire story of what kind of stray he had taken in—omitting alchemic origins and kidnapping—but any other soldier would claim that it was unprofessional, Karma not being well-trained.

It was not necessary to train Karma at all, but nobody knew that except for Roy and Hawkeye.

“Well, alright, then,” Havoc slowly lowered the dog biscuit on the floor, gently tossing it a bit of a distance away from himself so it was not too close, before turning back to his own desk, deciding to return to his paperwork.

Roy relaxed and went back to signing the forms he had been given that day, which would be due by noon. A long stretch of time passed, during which Breda was able to work up the courage to return to his desk, before he caught it from the corner of his eye: Karma gently picking up the end of the dog biscuit in her teeth. For a moment, he thought she would eat it, but when she did not immediately wolf it down, he knew she was up to something else. Havoc, on the other hand, was now watching with baited breath…

…Only to find the treat connecting with his shoulder after being tossed his way.

Fuery muffled a laugh into his palm, “Uh…Havoc…did she just…”

The Second Lieutenant blinked, bewildered, “She did,” He responded, picking up the biscuit and examining it, before looking back at the chimera, a tiny smile playing on his features, “Is something wrong with the treat, Karma? Is it the wrong flavor?” They were not serious questions, more amused than anything else. She had already done this once, blatantly aware that people were trying to lure her for the purpose of capturing her. Roy had not reflected, back then, on the fact that she might have hung around his people because she found them _entertaining_ , in spite of the threat they posed. Her intelligence, combined with her appearance and status as the leader of a pack of dogs, perfectly explained how she was so capable of creating chaos, to the point of becoming a local legend.

The chimera, in response to Havoc’s questions, looked away as if she were shunning the man, moving her snout up and away. It was revealed to be entirely good-natured, however, from the brief sidelong glance she sent his way, clearly looking for a reaction.

Breda, startled by her sudden movement, but not yet deterred from his desk, gave a nervous laugh, “She’s…she’s messin’ with ya, Havoc!” Roy concluded that the only reason the man had not fled to the lockers again was because Karma’s attention was not focused directly on him.

While most of the office watched with amusement, Hawkeye continued to focus on her work. She was probably still listening to the conversation, and Roy knew that, were it not for Karma’s presence and the necessity of ensuring that the chimera bonded with his team, she probably would have already demanded that people get back to work. Potentially she could try to tell Karma to behave, but considering how little the teen had interacted with his subordinate, resorting to anything threatening would probably cause a setback. It was too early to be scolding her for misbehaving, especially when antics like throwing back treats were harmless.

Roy actually doubted that his charge would do anything destructive, and even then, some part of him wanted to excuse the teen for being a distraction. The ability to so effectively mess with normal humans was, if anything, a consolation for a person who had been wronged so badly. This was perhaps the most playful that Karma had been in his presence, and some part of him felt relieved, at her acting childish.

He might have also personally found things funny, himself.

Havoc looked at his commanding officer, “Does she usually do that to you?”

“She eats to survive, but I’ve found that she isn’t very motivated by food as a reward,” Karma _did_ have things she liked, but possessed a remarkable ability to resist them if she thought it was necessary. She had the willpower, even while underweight, to turn down food if it seemed like a trap. The chimera had suffered enough inconsistency with rewards and care in the past that she doubted kind gestures linked to food, more concerned about potentially burdening the person responsible for her. She would eat whatever was offered as a meal without complaint, but he could never see her accepting bribes. “We probably aren’t the first people to pull something using dog biscuits.” He added—it was not a complete lie, either, from what he gathered.

Havoc frowned, examining the treat in his hand, “Well, the vet said some dogs just play with them, but won’t actually eat them. I’m starting to think Karma’s like that.”

Karma snorted, probably in response to the statement, although what she was thinking, exactly, Roy had no idea. He was getting better at reading her, but it was far from perfect. She actively tried to hide her expressions except what she _wanted_ people to see. It was constantly throwing him off balance, his greatest skills being related to nonverbal cues and tone. Very little of that held true for dogs, when their expressions were different and Roy had never lived with a dog growing up to even develop that skillset. There were already enough mouths to feed, his aunt had told him. There was no room for a pet.

And treating Karma as a pet horrified him.

Another thing, he _still_ needed to introduce Karma to his family. He…was not looking forward to it. There was some chance that his aunt would want to take the teen and raise her, because Roy already had so many responsibilities, but while he did not know that the girl would necessarily clash with the people in his family, she would probably resent the environment. He doubted that she would want to be in a place that smelled of alcohol; a hostess bar of all places. Central had leash laws, too. At least in East City, once enough time passed, she could walk without one.

It was at that moment that Karma’s ears pricked forward and she quickly rose onto her feet, Breda yelping and rushing to climb back onto the lockers as she walked past the desks in his office to the door on the other side of the room. She rose onto her hind legs, grabbing the round door knob with both paws, and slowly turned it, before backing away and dropping back down to the floor, swiftly moving away from it. A towering, muscular giant of a man with a single golden curl of hair on his head and a large mustache entered the room, briefly glancing around, trying to figure out who had anticipated his arrival. Major Armstrong was rather fond of simply barging in, unannounced. Most of Roy’s staff was torn between fear of the man trying to hug someone, and fascination that Karma was able to open doors with round knobs.

“Good morning Lieutenant Colonel Mustang! I have wonderful news from General Grumman!” The Strong Arm Alchemist declared. He had likely noticed that Breda was on the lockers, from the brief, questioning glance sent his way, but it seemed greater importance was being placed on whatever this news was, at least for now.

“Major Armstrong, you seem quite enthusiastic,” Roy noted—more than usual, “What’s going on?”

“Central intends to promote you to the rank of Colonel,” Armstrong then turned to Hawkeye, “Second Lieutenant Hawkeye, you are also being promoted to a First Lieutenant.” A tear fell from one of his eyes, and he spread his eyes wide, “Congratulations, to the both of you!” the Major possessed a gentle heart that belied his appearance, perhaps the most kind-hearted soldier Roy had ever met, even compared to Fuery. Armstrong was, however, extremely emotional, and could burst into tears at the drop of a hat, whether it was from sorrow or joy. He was proud of his physique and would use just about any excuse to remove his shirt and jacket, and whenever he attempted to hug someone, would often unintentionally crush them by mistake.

The Armstrong family, in general, was known for having abnormal strength compared to the rest of the populace. They were a respected bunch, with a long line of men and women who had served in high-ranking positions within the military. Major Louise Armstrong had perhaps been set to follow in his predecessor’s footsteps, but was unable to stomach the sort of violence seen in warfare, and had not been promoted in many years.

Roy continued to wonder if that was truly a sign of weakness, in spite of the man reportedly breaking down. He had taken lives, but he had made an effort, too, to spare them. Roy could make no such claim for himself.

Karma, as she seemed to do with any new person who seemed like they might be significant, walked right up to Armstrong, her head level with the bottom of his rib cage. She tilted her head and stared up at the man, who backed away slightly—although he was large enough to rival the chimera, she still resembled a gigantic, unfamiliar animal. For a moment the two regarded each other, and, when it was clear that the teen was not a threat, simply analyzing in that way that she often did, perhaps trying to commit his scent to memory, Armstrong reverted to his normal self.

“What a beautiful canine,” He remarked.

“I brought Karma into the office so she could get used to the team; I don’t recommend trying to pet her, though, she doesn’t like it.” Roy abruptly switched from an explanation to a warning, seeing even at a distance how the chimera’s muscles tensed, prepared to move when she saw Armstrong start to lift his hand. The reaction was swifter on the teen’s part than it was on his. Dogs apparently had better kinetic vision and were instinctively drawn to anything that moved. Half-dog chimeras did not seem to be an exception to this rule, and the girl seemed to have many of the same tendencies as her animals, right down to hunting and killing small animals for food.

It was still disturbing to contemplate, no matter how many times he thought of it. Even if he got used to thinking about it, he would probably continue to regard it with disgust. Karma, making matters worse, seemed almost _amused_ by his discomfort, on multiple occasions jokingly referring to pigeons and squirrels as lunch in private.

“She won’t bite, will she?” Armstrong asked.

“No, she’s never bitten anyone, but I wouldn’t test my luck, either.” Just because Karma never bit did not mean she would never do it. As far as he could tell, she had held back from it, before, because if she bit someone she would be put down, her head gruesomely severed from her shoulders, all for the purpose of evaluating her brain for indicators of rabies. Now, however, having been given all necessary vaccines, that was no longer a concern. _How_ Karma knew how people evaluated for rabies, Roy did not know, but he had been too sickened by the knowledge of what the chimera had been avoiding to ask for further details.

It was something that saddened him, how often Karma thought in terms of survival. What foods would kill her? What actions could she safely get away with, without being deemed too dangerous to live? What was the correct balance between fighting back and running away? What was more important when scavenging for food?

His charge continued to act, even during calmer moments, with some hidden edge of paranoia, despite his urging for trust. He doubted that could be easily fixed.

Karma was not completely selfish, though. She sacrificed her own portions for a group of feral dogs and seemed to actively put them in situations where they might be taken in. She willingly held a filthy, blood-covered chimera created by Tucker, and tried to find a way to keep it alive and free. Although her methods were not perfect, she would place a child’s needs and wants above her own.

Roy was still not certain, if Karma was more or less like himself. He did not know if her decisions to help were grounded in a need for companionship, strong moral convictions, or a logical evaluation of what was ultimately beneficial to herself in some way. He was not even sure if she was religious or not; in an alchemist’s house, and with her fear of being deemed a burden, and Roy’s marked lack of indicators of faith, she might very well not speak of things at all.

As if it was perceived as a challenge, or perhaps to prove that she had no harmful intent, Karma initiated touch on her own. She stepped forward and nudged the Major’s hand with her nose, before backing away, darting to the other side of the room. While she was still a little bit too thin, it was clear her strength was returning.

It was additionally obvious that, were Karma intent on hurting someone, she would have done it by now, and there would be little that people could do to prevent it.

Roy found himself questioning how Karma had been starving in the first place, if she was truly as horrible at survival as she seemed, or if she had merely gotten a poor start that she had never been able to recover from. From the way she had been mentally at the start, almost seeming to exist within a fog, there was perhaps more credibility to the theory than one would initially think. Had she not bound herself to a pack of dogs, and more immediately found a place with more resources, perhaps she would have made better decisions.

The soon-to-be Colonel knew he was overthinking things.

“A curious creature, indeed,” Armstrong confirmed.

“No fair!” Havoc whined, “She won’t let us get near her!”

Roy raised a brow and briefly made eye contact with his charge, whose ears pricked forward, staring intensely with a slight tilt to her head, “He’s not wrong.” He noted, the statement concealing a question. _Why Armstrong?_ Why, of all the people thus far that Karma had approached, would she willingly touch the least familiar, who was seldom present? What was it about the Major, specifically, that made Karma more daring?

Fuery had a thoughtful expression, “Well, if anyone would be against hurting an animal, it would be the Major.”

Armstrong faced the Sergeant, “The very thought of abusing an innocent animal is abhorrent!”

Fuery would similarly hate to hurt animals, so Roy doubted that was all there was to the story.

“Major Armstrong,” Hawkeye began, seemingly having decided there were enough distractions for today, “Thank you for letting us know about our promotions, but we have several deadlines that we need to prepare for.” Polite, but a warning for everyone in the room.

The Major gave several further updates, before saluting, congratulating them on their promotions once more when he was dismissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone willing to skip over some stuff so we can just have Ed and Al show up? It'll be a year timeskip, but I feel like I'm getting stuck and that's not good.
> 
> I did intend for Karma to react to Armstrong differently compared to other characters. It's up to the reader to figure out why.
> 
> SCRIPT:
> 
> Roy: So what's the deal with Armstrong? You never got that close to anyone else.
> 
> Karma: I don't know how I can explain it to you without it causing offense.
> 
> Roy: Explain it anyway
> 
> Karma: Oh, look who's at the window.
> 
> Roy: No, you're not getting out of it this-
> 
> Karma: He came back.
> 
> Crow/Snake Chimera: Food!


End file.
